


Paws of Fury

by Veritas03



Series: Paws of Fury [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Mystery, Romance, kitten fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 87,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veritas03/pseuds/Veritas03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Bellow, bluster… your rage is insignificant. No more than the mewing of a kitten. Do not be afraid. He will save you. Calm you. Love you."</i> </p><p>Harry has a furry little problem – but Draco’s scent soothes the savage beastie. Will Draco be able to save him when Harry’s world begins to crumble? Bubbles, blowjobs, mystery – and something rotten in the place of Grimmauld. Yes, yes -  it's a Kitten!Harry fic. I know what you’re thinking - but it was there and I had to get it out of my system. Give it a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
>  
> 
> _I must express my gratitude to **Sevfan** for helping me make sure this was presentable. Thank you!_  
>  _Additionally, this story has now been betaed by **mystressxoxo**. Any remaining errors are a result of my own obstinance._

Paws of Fury  
By Veritas03

Ron Weasley had learned a lot about his best friend over the years. For instance, he knew Harry Potter hated being in rooms with closed curtains. According to Hermione, they made him feel “claustrophobic.” He knew Harry’s first gay sexual encounter was with Zacharias Smith. Ron had never had a problem with Harry being gay. But Smith? Seriously? What a wanker. Fortunately, _that_ hadn’t lasted more than two days. He knew that, though Harry would never admit it aloud, he hated living at Grimmauld Place. He stubbornly continued to do so out of a sense of loyalty to Sirius. Another thing Ron knew - or was becoming more certain of - was that Harry Potter was losing control.

He never thought he’d see the day. To say that Harry was cool under pressure was - okay, could there be a bigger understatement? ‘Oh, pardon me while I let this crazy snake-faced bugger kill me. Not to worry. Back in a tick to kick his arse.’ Yeah, Harry could handle pressure.

It wasn’t a question of him losing control of his magic. He’d not made the crystal or crockery quake in years. No, this had to do with _emotional_ control. Ron shuddered at the thought. He could admit that he loved Harry like a brother. Beyond that, did blokes _really_ need to think, talk, or worry about one another’s emotions? Ron thought not. Problem was, it was becoming rather unavoidable.

Harry was a top-notch Auror. No big surprise there. At twenty-five, he was the youngest member of the department to be put in charge of his own squad. No question that Harry had earned the position. He was a natural leader. Few were more well-respected. That’s what made the scenario playing out at the moment all the more difficult to comprehend.

An explosion at the far end of Diagon Alley had left in its wake a scene of chaos and confusion. Three squads of Aurors had been dispatched there to investigate the situation, control and disperse the crowds, and assist the emergency teams from St. Mungo’s with the wounded.

Harry’s squad, including Ron and six others, was in charge of facilitating the treatment and transfer of the casualties. While the number of wounded had been considerable, no one had been dead at the scene. Although some of the injuries were serious, most of those already Portkeyed to the hospital were expected to survive. It had been considered fortunate that the explosion had occurred near the entrance to Knockturn Alley where pedestrian traffic was not generally heavy.

MAC - Magical Accidents and Catastrophes - had determined that the blast originated in a shop that had been boarded up for over a year. Evidence indicated that crates of volatile potions ingredients had been stored there. Another Auror squad was already working with MAC to ascertain if the explosion was accidental or the result of foul play. Most were in agreement that the damage from the explosion could have been much worse. The very heavy rain that had been falling for the last several days helped to keep the resulting fires from growing and spreading throughout the shopping district. 

The situation now was much less chaotic, the efficiency of the Aurors fully evident. However, nothing on this scale had ever happened in this commercial center of wizarding London, even at the height of the war. Fear was palpable in the air, and adrenaline was still running high. Only a few months ago, Harry would have been a strong presence, inspiring confidence and courage. Where, Ron wondered, had that man gone?

Though Harry moved with purpose about the scene, his frantic energy seemed to engender anxiety in both his fellow Aurors and the civilians still remaining there. Some might have assumed that the famous Auror was shouting to be heard over the crowd, his brusque manner the result of a sense of urgency. But Ron recognized the signs of escalating anger, signaling that Harry was winding up to explode. 

This had been happening with increasing frequency. Harry, usually fairly poised and self-possessed, was now quick to anger that, more often than not, morphed into full-blown rage. Ron, bracing himself to face Harry’s wrath for interfering, moved to intervene before things could escalate. As Harry began to lay into a couple of unfortunate mediwizards from St. Mungo’s, Ron watched an old woman reach up from the stretcher she had been placed upon to clutch at Harry’s arm. In the frantic activity that continued in the disaster area, Ron thought that few probably noticed Harry’s sudden silence.

***=^;^=***

Harry was outraged at the chaos that continued to reign at the scene of the explosion. Other Aurors should have set up a debriefing area for uninjured witnesses. Too many people were still milling about, getting in the way. Where were the other Healers that should have responded? More of the injured should have been transported to St. Mungo’s by this time. This was intolerable! Fury seared through him, driving him to strike out at someone. Two mediwizards Apparated almost on top of an old woman, and Harry launched himself at them.

“Watch out! You’re supposed to be here to help people, not injure them further! Idiots!” Harry was nearly screaming. The two mediwizards, both obviously a bit rattled at being censured by Harry Potter, moved quickly to help the old woman. 

Suddenly a bony hand clutched Harry’s arm, and time seemed to stop. His gaze shot to the old woman, but he couldn’t see her clearly. Despite the commotion around them, he found himself able to hear only the raspy words that the old woman’s voice weaved about him.

“Bellow, bluster…your rage is insignificant. No more than the mewing of a kitten. Do not be afraid. He will save you. Calm you. Love you. Now, be silent awhile.” The skeletal hand dropped away, and the witch lay back against the stretcher and closed her eyes. 

Slowly, sound and motion returned - or Harry’s awareness of them. The orderlies seemed to spring suddenly into action, although Harry wasn’t sure they had been idle during the old woman’s chiding. They quickly had her secured and were off to St. Mungo’s.

Ron was now at his side, concern evident on his face. “Harry?”

Harry swallowed hard, his throat feeling raw from all the yelling he’d done today. And he was suddenly drained - as if standing there, now motionless, had taken all of his energy. Somehow he managed to lift his arm toward Ron. Fortunately, his friend reached out the rest of the way to catch him before he fell, unconscious, to the ground.

***=^;^=***

“Robards just wants to give you a few days to relax, Harry. He’d do so for any Auror who collapsed in the field.” Hermione continued to fuss about him, and Harry saw Ron smirking from behind her. “There.” She looked him over, tucking the blanket around his legs as he reclined on the sofa. “You’ve got your tea, your book, your little snack.” Ron’s smirk got even bigger, and Harry gave him two fingers as soon as Hermione turned her back.

“Look at it this way, mate. At least you didn’t have to stay in the hospital.” 

“That’s because I didn’t need to stay in the hospital, and I don’t need to take a few days off.” Harry was insistent, despite the fact that he still felt a bit weak and disoriented. The Healers had checked him over and found nothing physically or magically wrong with him. Still, the Head Auror made him take a mandatory sick leave of three days. Harry suspected that this episode had given the department head an excuse to address Harry’s increasingly out of character behavior. Evidently, there had been some complaints…

“Harry, everyone needs time off. You never take any.” Hermione gathered her cloak, and Ron held it for her as she put it on. Turning back to Harry, she said, “Are you sure you don’t want to come home with us? The twins are always happy to see Uncle Harry.”

Ron was obviously about to second the offer, but Harry silenced him with a shake of his head. Much as he hated living at Grimmauld Place, he was reluctant to accept the invitation that Ron and Hermione periodically extended to stay over with them for a day or two. He feared that the more time he spent away from Grimmauld Place, the harder it would be to return there. He felt he owed it to Sirius to cherish what the man had left to him. However, cherishing Grimmauld Place had turned out to be a damn near impossible feat - one more thing that seemed to weigh Harry down. “I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll get some things done around here.”

Hermione’s expression clearly implied that, since he’d done very little to the old house since moving in after the war - even less after he’d sent Kreacher to live at Hogwarts full-time - she doubted he’d spend his few days off attempting anything in the order of home repair. However, she simply said, “Well, don’t do anything too strenuous. You should do something fun. Shame the weather’s been so dreadful lately. Maybe the rain will stop long enough for you to get out and enjoy some fresh air.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, but decided he couldn’t care less about doing anything. He waved a final good-bye to them as they left through the Floo. Looking around the drawing room, he felt the loneliness settle upon him. He really hated it here. And hated his job. His life. Oh, right. He’d have to have one first to hate it. “Fuck!” he shouted at the empty room, disgusted with the self-pity he couldn’t seem to stem. That outburst expended the last of his energy. Feeling hopelessly pathetic, Harry dropped into an exhausted slumber.

***=^;^=***

After three days of rambling around Grimmauld Place, storms raging outside prohibiting any escape, Harry was more than ready to be back at work. He was certain Robards would be disappointed to know that his plan had backfired, however. Rather than being calm and relaxed, Harry felt as though he was spoiling for a fight.

He’d woken that morning from a dream of Sirius. It had seemed to be more of a memory, really, of their last visit here before Sirius had been killed. They’d been standing in front of the Black family tapestry. He’d been telling Sirius of his fears of turning into Voldemort and how he felt so angry all the time. This time, instead of offering words of comfort, Sirius had shrugged and said, “So feel something else.” Oh, yeah. That was helpful. 

Robards had suggested that Harry come in a little later on the morning of his return. Ease back into his routine - that was how Robards had put it. The normally bustling Ministry was almost deserted, devoid of the usual hordes of visitors. It seemed as if no one wanted to brave the storm if they didn’t have to be there. Harry supposed it was a good thing since it allowed him to have the lift to himself - a rare occurrence. As Harry rode the lift down to level two, he began to feel trapped and agitated. He knew this wasn’t right. He knew that, despite the Healers’ assertions that he was fine, something was causing him to feel angry, lonely, distressed. The need to shout or strike out at something seemed to surge through him.

And then, with an innocent ‘ding,’ the door to the lift slid open and - with a kind of dark glee - Harry decided that Christmas had come early. Draco Malfoy stood, lost in his examination of some bureaucratic paperwork, waiting to enter the lift. Harry didn’t move despite the fact that he had reached his floor. Perhaps the fight he had been looking for had just come to him.

Draco stepped into the lift and pushed the button for level three before looking over to see the other occupant of the small compartment. The door slid closed as he realized that Harry Potter, rather than getting off at the floor for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, still stood in the lift, stabbing him with a glare. This might have intimidated someone who didn’t know the Auror as well as Draco felt he knew Potter. Or someone who hadn’t hosted the Dark Lord of Terror and Insanity in his home.

“Missed your floor, didn’t you, Potter?” Draco’s tone was not unfriendly. The two of them were no longer the adversaries they’d been in school. The war, the struggle to defeat Voldemort, had put their childish rivalry into perspective. Draco had heard rumor of Potter’s apparent anger issues of late - and his recent collapse. He didn’t know why the Auror was currently glaring at him so avidly. But if living under the same roof as Death Eaters with twitchy wand hands and He-Who-Must-Hex-Indiscriminately had taught him anything, it was to avoid exposing himself to confrontation.

“What are you up to, Malfoy?” Harry’s tone was undeniably accusatory. 

Draco’s brow furrowed momentarily. Surely Potter realized he was on his way down to his office on the third level. The Obliviators worked with the Aurors frequently, and Draco had been at the Ministry for over three years now. Just as he was about to answer, the bell chimed to indicate that they’d reached level three. Before the door could open, Potter slammed his hand against the button that would keep it closed. Draco felt slightly annoyed. He didn’t know what Potter’s current issues were, but he’d done nothing to warrant such rude behavior. 

“I’m just going to my office, Potter,” Draco said simply.

Harry was immediately angered at Malfoy’s composure. Surely he should be offended that Harry was questioning him with obvious suspicion as he might have done back at school? He’d have to try harder.

“Your office.” Harry’s tone was snide, and he thought he saw a twitch along Malfoy’s jaw. “How you ever came to work at the Ministry I’ll - oh, right. The Malfoy money hard at work.”

“Enough of this, Potter. I have work-” 

“Oh, yes – your work!” Harry’s voice was rising in pitch and volume now. “Obliviating! Probably could have bought yourself any job at the Ministry, and you chose to be an Obliviator. Why, that’s almost like having free rein to mess with the minds of Muggles. Perfect for someone who used to be a D-”

“DON’T SAY IT!” Draco finally lost his cool and wasn’t certain how he managed to keep from drawing his wand.

“Or what??” Harry shouted back. “What will you do? Hit me? Come on then! Hex me? DO IT! YOU -”

Mid-shout, a quick flash of light engulfed Potter’s body. Draco caught Potter’s look of surprise as he began to go fuzzy - or… furry? And then Potter was gone. The chime sounded as the door began to open now that Potter’s hand was no longer on the button to hold it closed.

“Meow?” 

If Draco had been thinking clearly at the moment, he might have wondered what the assembled group waiting to board the lift imagined when the door finally opened. There he stood staring down in disbelief at a tiny black kitten. Said kitten was turning about in frantic circles making an unbelievably annoying racket. 

The wizards and witches hesitated only a silent moment before moving all at once to board the lift. Some muttered complaints about the hold up, but most just watched with amusement while the kitten proceeded to climb up the soon to be ruined robes of the impeccably-dressed Draco Malfoy.

TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** FYI:  
>  _Italics_ alone indicate Harry’s thoughts.
> 
>  _Italics_ with “Quotation Marks” will be Harry trying to talk (which we in our brilliance will understand but will just sound like, well, MEOW to everyone else).

**Chapter 2**

A bright light flashed around him, and something seemed to clench inside. And then, Harry felt himself shrinking and changing. He almost bumped his nose against a pair of huge, expensive black shoes. _“What?"_ He heard the lift door opening and began to panic at the thought of more giant shoes coming in to trample him. “ _What do I do? What do I do?”_

Then the shoes started toward him. In terror, Harry launched himself at Malfoy’s legs. _“Pick me up, Malfoy!”_ His claws caught into Malfoy’s robes, and Harry started to pull himself up the tall, slender body. _“A little help here, please!!”_

Draco was horrified to see little claws embedding themselves in his very expensive robes. More than that, he was appalled to note that several other passengers on the lift were snickering at his predicament. Oh, that would not do! With as much dignity as he could muster, and a look dripping with disdain for those who would dare to laugh at him, he grasped the kitten and pulled the claws carefully away from his robes. That accomplished, he didn’t know what else to do but cradle the small animal against him. He realized they would have to ride the lift - to who knew how many floors - until he could get back to the third level. ‘Oh, Potter,’ Draco thought, ‘you will pay for this.’

Harry was relieved to finally feel secure. Hanging precariously from Malfoy’s robes had been so frightening. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he’d been through experiences that had been much more terrifying, but his now kittenish nature seemed to override that knowledge. He could feel himself trembling with fear and snuggled closer against Malfoy’s body. _Hmmm_. Draco was so warm. And he smelled so nice. Harry slowly began to relax. _Hmmm_.

As the lift stopped at the various floors to deposit or take on new passengers, Draco continued to hold the black kitten against him. The little body was no longer trembling. Draco had been annoyed to note that the trembling had affected him, evoking a feeling of protectiveness. He’d no idea where that would have come from. Now the kitten - Potter, Draco reminded himself - seemed to be trying to snuggle closer to him. And, was that… purring?

 _Hmmm_. Harry could not remember being this content in a long while. Resting against Draco’s strong, deliciously warm frame… this must be heaven. And that scent! Draco’s scent. Harry brushed his furry little face against the fabric of the robes, but it wasn’t enough. He had to get closer, to get more of that scent. Carefully, he lifted his upper body. Climbing just a little - but careful to keep his claws retracted - he was able to reach his goal. Just above the collar, a glorious expanse of creamy flesh glowed like a beacon. Harry was certain that, if Draco smelled so good though his clothing, his skin must be sublime. He was right. _HMMM_. Harry began to rub his fur against Draco’s neck, taking that scent upon him and leaving his scent upon Draco’s skin. _Hmmmmm, Draco, Draco, Draco…_

What the -? The furry little bugger had crawled up and was now rubbing his whiskered little nose and fuzzy face against Draco’s neck. And now the purring was even louder. Embarrassingly so! Fortunately, few people were on the lift now, and level three was approaching. “Gah!” Draco clamped his mouth quickly before another sound could escape. Potter was tickling him. His neck had always been sensitive. A small smile crept onto Draco’s face. He couldn’t help it! He was being tickled. Draco unconsciously cuddled the little kitten closer. It was kind of sweet, actually.

Finally the lift chime indicated the stop at level three, Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. With Harry still clutched against him and nuzzling his neck, Draco made his way off the lift and toward his small office. Fortunately, he didn’t see anyone on the way. He really didn’t want to have to explain the kitten - especially since he wasn’t sure he could do so. But, if it came to it, he knew someone who would help.

As soon as he had closed the door and moved to sit behind his desk, Draco deposited Potter atop it. In response to the distressed cry of the creature, he said, “Sorry, Potter. Now - not that you don’t make an absolutely adorable kitten, but - it’s time to change back.” Draco waited. “Go on.” Nothing happened. Well, except that the kitten seemed to grow more agitated. And louder.

 _“Change back? How do I do that? Please pick me up again. I’m getting cold!”_

Draco sighed. He wasn’t even certain that Potter could understand him. Was the change complete, or was this like an Animagus transformation? Was Potter an Animagus? Certainly he was powerful enough. “Potter. Potter! Stop that racket, will you? I’m trying to think.”

Potter must have understood him because the tiny black kitten did stop his pitiful cries. And then he huffed - **huffed** \- and plopped his furry little bottom down on the desk. Large green eyes stared woefully up at Draco. He wished he could say that the sight didn’t stir something in him, but that would be untrue.

“Potter, stop sulking. I’m trying to determine what happened to you. I surmise from the shock on your face when you went furry that this was… unexpected?”

**Meow**

“Shall I take that as a yes?”

_“Yes, yes, yes! I’m doing my best here. I’m sure I could do better from up there. Pick me up!!”_

“Potter! I can’t interpret kitten-speak. There’s only one thing for it. We’ll have to contact Hermione.” 

After the war and his trial, Draco had left England to live abroad for a while. His parents had thought it best, and he couldn’t conceive of a convincing argument against the idea. When he had returned to England, almost four years ago now, he had not been well-received. Though his parents had made atonement their new mission, the Malfoy reputation was still tainted by the family’s ties to Voldemort. Apparently, it had only taken Draco being treated as a pariah for Hermione Granger-Weasley to feel compelled to come to the rescue. Pronouncing any intolerance unacceptable and using terms like “reverse-discrimination” or some such, Hermione had taken up the cause of making Draco Malfoy socially acceptable. To her credit, she had largely succeeded. Now, he was more than just a project to her. The two of them had become good friends.

Taking up his quill and moving a furry little body off his parchment, Draco began to draft a quick note. Or it would have been quick if Potter hadn’t insisted on pouncing every time the quill moved. Finally Draco picked him up in one arm so that he could continue to write without further interruption.

Harry, though pleased to be snuggled up against Draco once more, kept a close eye on the feathered quill. He batted at it occasionally if it came close to his perch. All in all, he felt as though the quill knew who was boss.

“Alright, here’s the note. Would you like to hear? I’m going to take purring as a ‘yes’ just so you know. 

“ **’Hermione,  
** Please come at once to my office. Potter is in trouble again.  
Draco’.”

_“What do you mean again?”_

“Not understanding the kitten-speak, Potter. If you’ll hush, I’ll let you snuggle until Hermione arrives.” As major purring ensued at that point, Draco assumed his offer was acceptable.

Harry settled into the warmth of Draco’s body. _Hmmmmm_. He was so incredibly happy. Happier than he’d been in… no. No thinking of sadness. Just snuggling. As he grew drowsy, Harry felt Draco lift him a bit to rub his chin across the top of Harry’s furry head. _Hmmm, yes_. There was that scent again. Maybe he could just stay like this forever. Just nuzzling into Draco’s neck. Just… snuggling…

Potter was a sweet little thing as a kitten. He seemed to have settled down, and Draco suspected he might have fallen asleep. Since he had promised Potter that he could snuggle if he stopped his bothersome meowing, Draco continued to hold the kitten in his arms. He was a man of his word, after all. Settling in a bit himself, he prepared to wait for Hermione. As an Unspeakable, she worked deep in the lower levels of the Ministry. He could not even be sure when the paper airplane memo he’d sent would reach her. Sometimes the tasks of her position required her to be secluded. He supposed he could send a message to Ron -

A quick flash of light - and suddenly Draco’s lap was full of Harry Potter. Not the cute little kitten. The adult male, messy-haired, and - oh yes - definitely fit Auror. Draco had speculated from time to time about what was hidden under those Auror robes. Now, with his arms wrapped around the slightly smaller man, he could tell that Auror Potter was decidedly… embraceable. And still fast asleep.

With no preceding knock, the door to Draco’s office burst open. “Draco, what -” Hermione stopped suddenly at the sight before her, causing her husband to just miss crashing into her from behind as he pulled up short. Both Weasleys gaped at the sight of their best friend asleep in the arms of Draco Malfoy. Hermione finally found her voice and, with a wry half-grin, said, “Funny, he doesn’t look as if he’s in trouble.”

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A commotion of sorts was trying to break in upon Harry’s pleasant nap. Stretching a bit, he snuggled deeper into Draco’s embrace and nuzzled his nose against the other man’s delicious neck. Hmmm. He could just live on Draco’s scent, he was sure of it. Ugh, his glasses were in the way again. Must have forgotten to take them off. Wait! Something didn’t seem quite right about that.

“Harry?” The others watched as Harry began to stir. Hermione, knowing she’d not seen Harry so relaxed in months, was actually hesitant to disturb him - despite the odd circumstances.

“Potter.” Draco shook him gently and, quite suddenly, Potter was wide awake and sitting up straight. Still in Draco’s lap. Blinking about him, realization finally seemed to dawn and Potter jumped up.

Harry stood, shooting awkward glances at the other three people in the small room. They all seemed to be watching him expectantly.

Finally Ron broke the silence. “I don’t understand. Hermione gets a message from Draco that Harry’s in trouble. So we rush in here…” Ron looked speculatively from Harry to Draco.

“Until just a moment before your arrival, Potter wasn’t quite himself,” Draco said. He wasn’t sure if he should explain, or leave it to Harry.

“Well he hasn’t really been himself for a while.” As sometimes happened with Ron, he spoke before he realized what was going to come out of his mouth. The look Harry turned on him was hurt, though, instead of angry. Ron decided to stop ignoring the hippogriff in the room and press on. “I’m sorry, mate. I know you don’t like it when anyone mentions your… moods, but -”

“I was a cat!” Harry blurted, somewhat defensively.

Into the stunned silence that followed that statement, Draco offered quietly, “Well, a kitten actually.” Harry turned an irritated look upon him. “Just to clarify,” Draco responded.

Without saying a word, Hermione walked to the chair opposite Draco’s desk and sat. All the men watched her expectantly. “Are you an Animagus, Harry?” she asked.

“That’s what I thought!” Draco said, just a little smug. “I would have asked him, but of course he couldn’t answer - beyond those incessant little kitten noises.”

Harry found himself offended by that. “I was trying! It’s not my fault that the only sound I could make was ‘meow.’” 

“And purr,” Draco stated helpfully. “You could purr.”

“He was purring?” Ron asked.

Harry huffed and conjured a chair and slumped into it dejectedly. The room was small and he was still fairly close to Draco. And his scent. That was still detectable. He wondered why he’d never noticed it before. Of course, he’d never been that close to the other man until today. Harry suddenly felt a blush begin to creep up his face as he remembered nuzzling Draco’s neck. But - he’d been a kitten then, so it didn’t count, right?

“Harry!” Hermione felt they were moving a little far afield. “Are you an Animagus?”

“No, I’m not,” he said. “And, before you ask - no, this has never happened to me before.”

“Could you have been cursed?” she asked.

“A Kitten Curse?” Draco asked skeptically. “I realize that, as an Unspeakable, you are privy to things the rest of us are not. But, surely -”

“No! I’ve got this.” Ron straightened from where he had slumped against the wall. “I told you about that old woman the day of the explosion -”

“Ron, I already told you that all she did was grab my arm. She was in pain, and those mediwizards were bumbling about.”

“But you also told me you couldn’t really remember her,” Ron said.

“I remember it was only a moment,” Harry insisted.

“But it wasn’t!” After Harry’s collapse, Ron had Apparated him to St. Mungo’s. Leaving his friend in the care of the Healers, Ron had gone in search of the old woman among those who had been brought from the scene. He had even found the two mediwizards who had transported her to the hospital, but the woman was nowhere to be found. Later, after the Healers had declared that Harry was fine - and Harry himself had downplayed the incident - Ron had put it to the back of his mind. Now, however… “She didn’t just grab your arm. She said something to you. And you - you sort of… stopped. You got quiet.”

“Perhaps he was listening to what she said?” Draco offered politely. A decent rapport with Ron had resulted from his friendship with Hermione. That didn’t stop him from thinking that Ron could often be Master of the Obvious. 

“No! He… his whole body just… stilled.” Ron knew he wasn’t explaining it very well and looked to Hermione. She always understood what he was trying to say.

“I think you mean that nervous energy he has when he’s agitated -”

“Hey! I’m right here you know.” Harry hated it when they talked about him as if he wasn’t there. It was something that seemed to happen a lot lately. Probably because, for the most part, he refused to talk with his friends about the anger and despair that frequently beset him. It just seemed like something private. Then there were times (admittedly few) when he had wanted to try to speak with them, but found that he just… couldn’t. None of which stopped them from continuing to talk to _him_ about it or trying to determine what was wrong. While a part of him appreciated the fact that they were trying to help, that angry, dissatisfied part of him just wanted to be left alone. 

“We know that, Harry.” Hermione’s voice was gentle, sensing that this was one of those moments that could send him off. “We’re just trying to figure out what is happening to you. You’ve admitted that you were disoriented before you collapsed. Think of it this way: If this had happened to someone else, and you were investigating it, wouldn’t you be likely to listen to the witness who could give a more accurate observation, rather than one who admitted to being confused?”

Harry sighed and let his head drop to his chest. He was so tired of this. Tired of feeling miserable. Tired of the tension between him and his friends. Just… tired. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Draco had listened to all of this with interest. Though he had forged a friendship with Hermione, they rarely socialized outside of work these days. She had a fairly demanding career and five-year-old twins. Through her, he had spent enough time with Ron that the two men were at least fairly comfortable in each other's presence. But he and Potter had never really moved beyond polite, somewhat stilted interaction. Now, though he found himself reluctant to admit it, he realized that Potter still held as much interest for him as he always had. 

“So, you’re positing that this old woman placed a spell on Potter?” Draco asked.

“I’m saying that she did say something to him, so she had the opportunity to do so. He did pass out afterward, and now he’s turned into a… kitten.” Ron felt he had reasoned it out pretty well, but the last part did sound really strange when said aloud.

“Alright,” Harry finally began to switch into Auror mode, “so you’re sure that she said something to me. What if she was just asking for help or something?”

“I think that Ron is also taking into account the way you reacted physically to her touch.” Hermione looked to Ron for confirmation, and he nodded his agreement.

“So, if she did cast something on him, why turn him into a kitten?” Draco questioned. Then, turning to Harry he asked, “And why aren’t you still a kitten? If someone was going to go to the bother, why make it so fleeting?”

“Maybe the spell wasn’t that strong,” Harry speculated. “Or maybe it was only meant to be temporary.” 

“How long were you furry?” Ron asked

Harry and Draco looked at each other. Since Harry had slept during part of the time, Draco answered. “Maybe half an hour. Certainly no more than that. We were in the lift when it happened - missed getting out on the correct floor. After we finally got back to level three, we came to my office. Not long after that, I sent the message to Hermione. Then Potter took a nap while we waited.”

“How long was the nap?” Ron asked.

“No more than five minutes, I’d guess.”

Ron looked just a bit sheepish as he asked, “And he was still a kitten when he… fell asleep on your lap?” Both Harry and Draco just looked at him. “Just asking.”

Looking steadily at Ron, Harry stated, “I was a kitten when I fell asleep.”

“He actually returned to himself just seconds before the two of you came in,” Draco said.

Hermione sat forward in her chair. “So, the spell - or whatever - ended while you were asleep?” Harry nodded to indicate that was so. “Hmm, that’s interesting.” Hermione pondered this for a moment. “Well, there are a couple of things we need to consider.” 

Harry could tell by the way she was looking at him that he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. Ron, seeing his look of dread, clapped his shoulder in a supportive gesture. Harry failed to feel reassured.

“First, you need to think about work. You should probably talk to Robards about taking some more time off.” Hermione barely got the sentence out before Harry was trying to contradict her.

“No! Three days was long enough - too long. I can’t just be off work.” Harry turned to Ron. “You know I don’t do down time well. I need to be occupied.”

Despite the sympathetic look from his friend, Harry wasn’t really surprised by Ron’s next statement. “I know, mate. I do. But what if this kitten thing happens again - while we’re on assignment or something?”

Draco didn’t really understand why seeing Potter in such distress affected him, but it did. Just as the trembling of the kitten had done. Hoping to assuage some of the other man’s anxiety he suggested, “Perhaps you could just ask to return to light duty for the time being. Desk only.” 

By Harry’s affronted expression, the others all knew just how well Draco’s suggestion had been received. Ron stepped in quickly. “It would be better than just taking time off completely. And it would just be until we can figure out what’s going on.”

“And we actually have a solution to that problem fairly close at hand,” Hermione said. “Between the two Aurors, an Unspeakable, and an Obliviator, getting our hands on a Pensieve should be easily done.” 

Ron was a little surprised by Harry’s less than enthusiastic expression. Though giving a Pensieve memory was not generally done lightly, it was not unpleasant in any way. Nor was it something Harry had not done before in the course of furthering an investigation. In an encouraging tone he said, “Nothing to it. Then we’ll know for certain if the old woman was cursing you or just ordering lunch.” Relieved to see Harry give at least half a smile, Ron continued. “I had thought about suggesting it at St. Mungo’s. But then the Healers said nothing was off and you seemed fine, so…”

Finally Harry gave his agreement. “You’re right. Since my memory of the whole thing is a bit hazy, couldn’t hurt to look at it that way.”

Draco, ever the observant Slytherin, watched the tension ease almost imperceptibly from both Ron and Hermione. How long had they been walking on egg shells around Potter? While the kitten thing and tracking down this possible lead of its cause was of immediate concern, Draco felt something that was perhaps more important was being… not ignored, but definitely stepped around. He knew Ron would probably pursue getting the Pensieve memory, and Hermione would likely focus on researching animal Transfiguration curses. That left, in his mind, the issue of Potter’s emotional state to him. 

Draco stopped himself there. Why did that leave anything to him? He and Potter were not friends. Though they both worked at the Ministry and their paths had even crossed on the occasional case, he could not even say that he considered Potter a colleague. Acquaintances? No, with their particular history they knew each other better than that. Why was it suddenly so important to him to define their relationship? Looking at Potter now, the uncertainty in his usually confident demeanor, Draco felt a pull reminiscent of the protectiveness elicited by the small bundle of fur that had trembled in his arms. Someone needed to help Potter. To save him from the toxic emotions that were obviously choking the life from him. Yes, Draco knew he was definitely the best qualified in this room to help Potter control and conquer those emotions. 

That being said, Draco could admit - to himself at least - that his Slytherin nature had never allowed for much in the way of altruistic motives. He knew that there was a part of him that wanted to be there if Harry did go kitten again. To be the one to hold the furry little beastie, keep him safe, listen to his kitty gibber and receive his feline attentions. And if those same opportunities presented themselves when the kitten was the man? A small smile, just short of a smirk, threatened to reveal itself. 

Catching Potter’s eye as the Weasleys proceeded to discuss the how-tos and wherefores, Draco found that he could not hold back the smile and, really, there was no reason for him to try. Harry’s eyes widened for a moment before the hint of an answering smile slipped onto his face. Draco decided to take that as his first success in the effort to save Harry Potter from himself.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was going to kill him. He’d lost Harry. 

They’d had a plan. Ron would accompany Harry to Robards’ office to discuss the return to work. Hermione would go back to her department to acquire a Pensieve for their use. Actually, Draco was the one who had suggested that they use a Pensieve down in the Department of Mysteries. The Auror Department was usually crowded with people, and it would be more difficult to use a Pensieve there without drawing attention. They had all agreed to the importance of keeping Harry’s kitten status under wraps. Since Harry couldn’t seem to get a haircut without it turning into a media event, they had decided that the fewer people who knew about this situation, the better. 

Although Harry had been reluctant to divulge the nature of his current problem to Robards, he’d admitted it was unavoidable. Turning into a kitten definitely fell under the category of things that could impact his job performance. Since they couldn’t know yet if Harry’s kitten Transformation was a one-time occurrence, Robards would have to be made aware of the state of affairs.

Ron could tell Harry had been a little irritated that the others had insisted that he have an escort. Their reasoning, of course, was the uncertainty about whether or not he would go feline again. In the event that did happen, no one wanted him wandering about the Ministry. Even Harry had admitted that he wouldn’t want to be on his own as a kitten. Ron had noticed, then, how Harry had glanced at Draco - and blushed. Deciding that was a puzzle for another day, Ron had fixed his attention on the task at hand.

Robards had ushered them into his office and, if he wondered at Ron’s presence, hadn’t said anything. Harry had obviously been very discomfited as he told the Head Auror of the earlier incident. Robards had, of course, been concerned but approved of their plan to pursue the lead on the old woman. Then Harry tried to discuss his work schedule. Robards had been adamant that, with the possibility that he could become a kitten at any moment, he could not allow Harry to return to work at all. Not until the situation was resolved. 

Ron had watched worriedly as Harry’s agitation increased. So far, Harry had managed to control himself enough to avoid raging at his superiors. As Harry began to pace about the office, trying to make his case to Robards, Ron clearly saw the signs that heralded the escalation of Harry’s anger. Ron actually agreed with Robards on some points. The Head Auror supported their plan to limit the number of people who would know of the situation. It was true that it would be impossible to keep the situation a secret given the set-up of the Auror Department. Aurors were no longer assigned to individual cubicles. Each squad had a shared area for their desks and work areas for current investigations. If Harry went furry it was certain that, at the very least, the other squad members would know of the problem. 

Harry, however, could not seem to see reason on this matter. Inevitably, he blew. Robards, having never witnessed one of Harry’s rage episodes personally, watched in shock as one of his most respected Aurors lost complete control. Harry had gripped the back of the chair in a manner that made Ron believe that he might actually throw it. Finally, as was typical of Harry’s rants, he began to yell and curse, shouting irrational accusations. 

Then suddenly there was a flash of light. The other men saw Harry’s eyes widen a split second before he disappeared - to be replaced by a small black kitten. The animal looked up at them with obvious fear. Thinking to comfort his friend, Ron moved to pick up the kitten. Obviously panicked, the tiny creature gave a small but defiant hiss and backed away. Then, turning about in the manner of the wizard he actually was, the kitten Apparated out of the room.

In an effort to forestall the apoplectic fit Robards seemed about to have, Ron assured his superior that he knew exactly where Harry had gone and rushed out of the office. Of course he had no fucking idea where Harry had gone and was now racing to find Hermione. Who was going to kill him.

***=^;^=***

“Move your arse off my desk, Smith.” 

It had been a very interesting day, and it was not yet noon. Draco tried to return focus to his work, but had been unable to stop thinking about Harry. At the moment, Ron and Hermione were doing their parts to address to the 'Kitten Issue.' Draco would not be directly involved in that process, so he had turned his attention to his decision to help with Harry’s other problem - conquering his emotions. 

Draco had his own methods of dealing with emotional stress and was certain that his friends and colleagues would be very surprised about some of them. He had been pondering how he might best convince Harry of the merits of Tai Chi when, after a brusque knock at his door, Zacharias Smith had barged in. Really, the man was the epitome of ill-manners and did not know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.

“Shall I move it onto your lap?” Smith asked in a voice he must have thought alluring. 

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. How many times did this wanker need to be rejected before he finally moved on? Maybe he was one of those pathetic idiots who got off on rejection. Well, there was nothing for it. Draco certainly wasn’t going to encourage him. “I want you to remove it completely from my office - and never bring it back.”

“I don’t think you mean that. Not after that kiss -”

Draco was sending Smith his best glare, but evidently the man's idiocy made him impervious. “That was months ago and I’ve done nothing but express loathing for you since. More to the point, I was intoxicated. And obviously mistook you for someone else.” 

“Who?” Smith pouted.

“Anyone. Leave. Now.”

So stupidly arrogant that not even Draco drawing his wand could pierce his idiocy, Smith - arse **still** perched on the edge of the desk - moved even further into Draco’s personal space. “You’re just playing hard to get. You know we could be really good together-”

Failing all else the wanker now seemed to think the way into Draco’s pants was to bombard him with the lamest lines ever used. “No, I don’t know that. I know I, of course, would be brilliant. You, if rumors are to be believed, would be barely adequate. Now get -”

“MMRAWWR!”

***=^;^=***

One moment Harry had been in Robards office, trying to convince the Head Auror of how much he wanted, **needed** , to return to work. The man was being unreasonable, and Harry was convinced that Robards was using this as an opportunity to get rid of him. Then - the flash of light and clenching feeling. 

_“Not again!”_ Harry looked up to see his boss and his best friend staring down at him in disbelief. He supposed it was one thing to know of the possibility, but quite another to actually see it. This would be all the ammunition that Robards needed. _This is bad. Very bad!_ Then Harry noticed Ron moving toward him, and he felt even more panicked. 

_“Leave me alone!”_ Harry hissed. _“I don’t want you!”_ Harry was suddenly clear about exactly what he did want. Not even questioning whether he should be able to do so in his kitten state, he set his destination, turned, and Apparated. 

Draco’s office looked very different from the floor. He immediately knew he was behind the desk, next to Draco’s chair. He could see Draco and, oh yes, there was that scent that he needed - what was that? Someone else was here. Telling Draco they could be… good together?? Harry felt his fur bristle about him and in his fiercest voice cried, _“MINE!!”_

***=^;^=***

Startled by the anguished howl, Draco looked down to see a very angry little kitten. “Pot-” He barely stopped himself before calling out Harry’s name in his surprise. With a smile that reached all the way from his heart to his lips, he bent to pick up the little bundle of fur. “Where have you been? Curled up napping somewhere, no doubt.” Draco didn’t really care what Smith believed but felt he should make some effort to explain the sudden appearance of a little cat in his office. 

“What is that?” Smith demanded as he watched a very small black kitten, meowing loudly, burrow itself into Draco’s embrace. 

“A kitten.” Idiot. Draco cuddled Harry close, smoothing his ruffled fur in an effort to calm the distraught little animal.

 _“What is that wanker doing in here? Send him away, Draco!”_ Harry was not happy to find Zacharias Smith, perched on the edge of Draco’s desk. When Draco breathed a “hush” into Harry’s fur, he felt a purr begin to build up in him. Then the wanker opened his mouth and ruined it.

“You can’t have a cat in here.”

“Of course I can. He’s… my familiar.” Draco was pleased that Harry seemed to be calming slightly but he noticed that the kitten was watching Smith carefully.

“And you call him ‘Pot’?” Smith scoffed.

“Pfft. No. I do not call him ‘Pot’. Why would I call him that?” Draco knew he was stalling, trying to think of a name. All he could come up with was ‘Harry’ and he knew that wouldn’t work.

“Well, I don’t know,” Smith said, obviously not recognizing a rhetorical question. “Maybe because he’s black, like a cauldron?”

Draco decided against pointing out that, by that reasoning, he would be calling the kitten ‘Cauldron’ and gathered Harry up close, playing with his soft little paws. “You simply misheard.” Turning the kitten toward Smith he said, “I didn’t call him ‘Pot.’ I called him ‘Pof.’ For ‘Paws of Fury.’” Draco moved one of the little paws in a slashing motion toward Smith and added, “Beware.”

Smith just blinked stupidly. Obviously the man had never seen a Bruce Lee film. Draco had hoped that the arrival of the kitten would be the impetus to getting Smith’s fucking arse off his desk and out of his office, but that wasn’t happening. He watched as a look of determination seemed to gather itself on the man’s face.

Reckoning that he deserved some of the affection Draco was bestowing so freely upon that stupid cat, Smith decided to make his move. He lifted his hand, determined to brush his fingers though the blond hair. Bad decision.

Harry was pleased to note that Draco treated Smith with the notorious Malfoy disdain. Not that Smith seemed to be picking up on the rebuff. _Idiot. Wanker_. Forget him. Draco was playing with his paws. It made Harry want to cheer, so the sound came out somewhere between a purr and excited meow. Draco smiled at him and kissed his nose.

 _Hmmm_. Happiness engulfed him. He thought - what? What was the wanker up to?? _“Get away from him!! Wanker!!!”_ Harry’s angry hissing was drowned out by Smith’s cry of pain. 

“It scratched me!!” Smith’s arse was finally off the desk and moving several steps away.

Draco smirked. “Warned you. Paws of Fury.”

Smith slammed out of the office, barely noticed by Draco or Harry. Draco lifted the kitten, holding him in front of his face. “So. Kitten again, hm?” Draco, mimicking the kitten, nuzzled his face against Harry’s. “Well, I don’t know how you got here, but I’m glad of it. Saved me from the unwanted advances of that idiot, Smith.”

Draco looked deeply into the bright green eyes before him and laughed as the soft paws batted at his face. “And… I missed you.” Loud purrs rumbled against his cheek as he pulled Harry close against him.

_Hmmmm. I missed you too, Draco. You’ll keep me safe and happy. I know it. Hmm…_

Reluctantly, Draco reached for his quill and parchment. “I suppose we should let Team Weasley know that you’re here with me. Still don’t know how you managed that.”

This wasn't what the kitten wanted to hear. _“Do we have to? I want to stay here with you.”_

“What happened to the happy purrs? You know we have to let Ron and Hermione know where you are. They’re probably frantic.” Scratching Harry behind an ear achieved the return of the purring that Draco had hoped for. “I’ll even let you play with the quill whilst I write the note.”

 _Oh. Well… alright then._

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Iridescent bubbles floated delicately through the air - to be burst with a swat of a little furry paw. Draco chuckled as he watched Harry race around the desk top, chasing, swatting and pouncing upon the bubbles. The black kitten had actually allowed Draco to put him down so that he could go after the elusive spheres.

“Didn’t know you could be so easily entertained, Harry.”

_Can’t talk. Corralling bubbles here._

Suddenly the bubbles scattered as the door to Draco’s office flew open. _“No! Bring them back!”_ The kitten spun around in frantic circles, trying to catch the bubbles as they floated away on the gust of air created by the opening of the door. As the last one wafted out of reach, soulful green eyes turned to Draco and the kitten sat, dejectedly, atop the desk.

“Don’t pout, Harry. Hermione didn’t mean to spoil your fun,” Draco chided teasingly.

Hermione was still standing frozen in the doorway, staring in astonishment at the little black kitten. From behind, Ron gave her shoulder a gentle pat to bring her out of her daze. Moving into the small room, Hermione slowly approached the desk. “Harry?”

The kitten turned his gaze briefly to her, flattened his ears against his head and turned away. _“Fun wrecker.”_

Ignoring his feline body language, Hermione moved to lift the kitten into her arms. _“Hey! Put me down! Help, Draco!!”_ Harry twisted and turned his little body until he managed to wrestle himself from Hermione’s embrace and jump back to the desk. He quickly made his way to Draco, crying out his demand. _“Draco! Pick me up! I don’t want to be analyzed!”_

Draco scooped Harry into his arms, stroking the dark fur to calm the unhappy kitten. “Hush, Harry. You know, you’re not behaving very well. Hermione’s only here to help, after all.”

Bemused, Hermione watched as Draco cradled the kitten gently in his arms, whispering calming words against the top of the furry head. Harry, no longer mewing in distress, began to purr loudly as he nuzzled the man’s neck and face. After a moment, Hermione began to wonder if the two remembered that there was anyone else in the room. Turning her speculative gaze away from the pair, she caught Ron’s eye. In the way that married couples often do, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a look heavy with unspoken words. 

Ron moved to the chair opposite Draco and gestured for Hermione to take the seat. He Transfigured the waste basket into a chair for himself and sat beside her. They had been relieved, if a little surprised, when they received the message that Harry was with Draco. Watching them now, Ron wondered if Harry (the man) could be as happy with Draco as the kitten obviously was. They continued to watch silently for a few moments as Harry and Draco snuggled, clearly content.

Finally Ron broke the silence. “How did you find him?”

Draco looked up from the kitten. “I didn’t, really. He was suddenly just here - in my office. I thought he was with you.”

“So he Apparated directly to you?” Hermione asked.

“Is that what he did?” Draco looked surprised. Turning to Harry he said, “You really are remarkable, Harry.”

 _Thank you, Draco. Hmm…._ The kitten purred loudly and butted his head against Draco’s chin.

“Well,” Ron began, “we know he’s been a kitten longer this time than he was the first time. It’s been almost an hour since he Transformed in Robards’ office.” Turning to Hermione, he asked, “Do you suppose there’s any significance to that?”

“I think it’s too early to say. This is only the second time he’s changed, and it hasn’t been that much longer.” Hermione was thoughtful. “Last time he changed back when he fell asleep.”

They all looked at the kitten, who seemed to realize he was suddenly under scrutiny. _“Not sleepy, sorry. Hungry, though.”_

“I think he forgets that we can’t understand his meows,” Draco said. “So, now what’s the plan?”

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to delay our plans to use the Pensieve,” Hermione said. “We’ve no way of knowing when he’ll be Harry again.”

Draco’s brow furrowed a bit. “He’s still Harry. I mean, he’s obviously the kitten too - and ruled by those instincts.” Laughing lightly he added, “Unless he’s often distracted by feathered quills and bubbles. And I can honestly tell you that he’s never shown me this kind of affection before.”

Embarrassed, Harry burrowed his furry face against Draco’s neck. _Oh Merlin, he’s right. How emb- ooh that scent. Can we get something to eat now?_

“Yeah, why is that exactly?” Ron straightened in his chair to ask. “Hermione and I have been his best friends for years. Yet, when we both tried to pick him up he was all hissy and squirmy. I didn’t think the two of you were particularly close.”

_Hissy? I take issue with hissy._

“We’re not.” Draco looked over at the couple and gave a slight shrug. “I’ve no idea. Hermione?”

“I’m at a loss. Maybe because he was with you the first time he changed. What were you doing then? Just talking?”

“Arguing, actually. He was in the lift when I got on, and it seemed as if he was already angry about something. I think - it was as if I just happened to be there at the wrong time and got swept up into his… episode.”

The kitten had become very still against Draco’s chest and seemed to be listening intently to the conversation. Draco stroked his fluff reassuringly, and Harry gave a soft mew. _“So sorry, Draco.”_

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look before Ron said, “He was angry when he changed in Robards’ office, too. Really worked up. Then - bright light, poof - kitten.”

Draco’s eye narrowed. This reinforced his thought that Harry’s emotional state was an issue that needed to be more vigorously addressed. But how did the kitten transformation tie into it? “So, he’s only been a kitten today. How long has he been having this problem with anger?”

“Well, to begin with, it’s not just anger. He’s been really… depressed.” Turning sad eyes upon the kitten Hermione quietly said, “I can’t remember the last time I heard him laugh.”

Ron reached over and took her hand before answering Draco’s question. “It’s really hard to say when it started. It wasn’t like it was all at once.” He seemed to be considering things for a moment. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought lately. Especially since it seems to really be getting worse, you know? I think it may have started, in small ways, even a few years back.”

The group was quiet, all reflecting on and processing this information. Harry, usually happy in his kitten state, felt the sadness of his human existence begin to seep into and sour his contentment. If he had been human, he might have been able to contain the wail of despair that rose to his throat. The kitten could not do so.

Draco gathered the kitten closer to him as the tiny animal cried piteously. Stoking the trembling body, whispering calming words against the dark fur, Draco offered Harry as much comfort as he could. If they had been alone, he thought he might have been very tempted to tell Harry that he would always be available to hold and comfort him - kitten or man.

Hermione watched, her heart aching for her friend, as the kitten began to settle once more in response to Draco’s efforts to console him. The depth of Harry’s emotional distress engulfed her. How had they failed to see how desperate he had become? They had tried to assign reasons to his change in temperament. Stress of the job, failure to develop any of his romantic relationships. Their own lives had become so busy with the demands of their careers and family. They should have pushed harder instead of allowing him to discourage them from trying to help. 

Strengthening her resolve, Hermione took charge of the situation at hand. “Well, there’s not much else we can do until Harry becomes human again. One of us will, of course, need to stay with him.” Glancing quickly at Ron she added, “I’m afraid I’ve got some things that my supervisor will not allow me to put off any longer.”

“Well, I’d stay with him, but that didn’t work out too well last time,” Ron said.

The two Gryffindors, sorely lacking in anything remotely resembling subtlety, turned to look at Draco. Managing to keep from rolling his eyes, Draco said, “I’ll take care of him. I was just catching up on paperwork anyway, and the other Obliviators here can handle anything that comes in. Do we need to stay here at the Ministry, though?”

“No, I had thought about that,” Hermione said. “It’s past time for my lunch break, so I have time to take you to Harry’s place. It’s under Fidelius, but I don’t think he’d mind if I confide in you. The two of you could spend the afternoon there. We’ll probably have to wait until he’s back in regular form to decide what to do next.” 

“I’ve got some thoughts on that, but we can talk about it later.” Ron ducked his head a bit and said, “I missed lunch, too.”

 _“Food!”_ The kitten gave a loud meow of apparent agreement.

“Don’t worry,” Draco told him with a grin. “I’ll wager we’ll be able to find something for you to eat.” 

Purring once more, Harry snuggled up against his favorite person. He wasn’t completely pleased to be going back home. After all, he’d just spent three days cooped up in the dark, depressing house. But Draco would be with him, so it would surely be better. So - food, more snuggling, perhaps some bubbles to chase. And Draco. _Hmmm…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is so exciting - there is art for this story! **Oldenuf2nb** created a wonderful picture of kitten!Harry for this story. It was created based on a prompt submitted by **Kawanale** to the 2009 Fanart Fest at Live Journal. I just feel incredibly honored that an excerpt from this story was submitted as a prompt and that such a talented artist chose the prompt to creat a picture for it. And it's completely beautiful!! Here's the link:
> 
>  
> 
> [Corraling bubbles, here...](http://community.livejournal.com/hd_fanart/238482.html)


	6. Chapter 6

The thunderclap would have hidden the sound of the Apparation had anyone been around to hear it. The heavy rain Disillusioned them as well as any spell. Hermione gestured at the house just across from the square where they now stood.

“It’s this one. Number twelve.” Hermione started forward toward the house.

“This is where Harry lives?”

Something in Draco’s voice made Hermione turn back to him. He was staring up at the house in trepidation. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

Shaking himself a bit, he started forward with her. “Nothing, really. Are the house-elf heads still on the walls?”

Now it was Hermione who stopped. “You’ve been here?” Even as she asked, she recalled his familial connection to the Blacks.

“Once. When I was five - just after Great-Aunt Walburga died.” His voice was quiet, but Hermione caught the hint of distaste that colored it. “Those house-elf heads gave me nightmares for weeks.”

A small furry head popped out from under Draco’s cloak _“Draco?”_

“Back under the cloak, Harry. Your fur will get wet.”

“We all need to get out of this rain. Let’s go in.” Hermione opened the door, and they stepped into the entrance hall.

Draco was pleased to see that Harry had made some changes to the place. “No house-elf heads, then. Vast improvement, that.”

“Those were the first thing to go after Harry moved in.” Hermione shook out her cloak and hung it up. She was surprised to see Draco still gazing around. 

Though Draco had only been here once as a small child, the malevolent energy of the house had made an indelible impression upon him. Even his parents had avoided coming here. His mother was not particularly close to her aunt. His father, while acknowledging the impeccable pureblood status of the family, had once expressed that this house was a monumental exhibition of poor taste. Draco had the feeling that Lucius held a similar opinion of Walburga herself, though he never heard him actually say it. Well, the old woman was insane after all. One only had to look at her portrait to be reminded. Except…

“Where’s the portrait of Walburga?” Draco asked. “That’s why we were here that day - to see the portrait hung after her death.”

“Harry got rid of that as well, though that took longer. Something beyond the regular sticking charm evidently. Here, let me take your cloak.”

Harry had known immediately when they had entered the house. The sense of dark melancholy immediately assailed him, but it was undeniably stronger than usual. He huddled closer to Draco and would have gladly stayed hidden under his warm cloak. As Draco unfastened the garment and slipped it off, Harry was assaulted by an overpowering feeling of pure evil. He felt the fur on his back instinctively rise, and he cried out in warning. 

_“No! It’s wrong! Something bad is here! We need to get out!”_ Harry was torn. He was terrified and wanted to stay within the security of Draco’s arms. But Draco wasn’t moving. He didn’t understand. Harry would have to show them.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione shouted over the wails of the kitten.

“I don’t know!” Draco was trying to keep his hold on Harry, but the small animal was fighting to get away - completely opposite of his usual kitten behavior and totally at odds with how he had been just moments before they entered the house. Harry wrestled his way free and jumped to the floor. He ran immediately to the door and began to scratch at it, still wailing frantically. Draco finally understood and ran after the kitten, calling back to Hermione. “His instincts are reacting to something here. We need to leave - now! Meet us at my flat.” 

Scooping the kitten into his arms, Draco flung open the door, ran out into the rain and Apparated them away. Harry’s sense of relief was immediate. Though still frightened by what he had felt, the evil was gone - left behind at Grimmauld Place. He still trembled, his tiny body fighting with the adrenaline that had coursed through him moments before. And it was wet now, and cold. Draco was clutching the kitten to his chest as they made their way through a part of London that Harry didn’t recognize.

Draco walked quickly from the alley to his building. Since it was a Muggle neighborhood, he didn’t risk taking out his wand to cast a spell to protect them from the rain. They didn’t have far to walk, but the heavy rain would have them soaked through by the time they reached their destination. As he walked, Draco made small talk to calm both himself and the kitten shivering in his arms.

“It’s not far, Harry. Reckon you’re surprised to find that I live in a Muggle area. I’m often at the Manor on the weekends, but living here has its own benefits. Here we are.” The building Draco let them into appeared on the outside to be a type of warehouse. 

The inside of the building had obviously been renovated. They were met by a young Muggle woman who was just preparing to leave the building as they entered. Draco greeted her by name.

“What a day for you to be caught without an umbrella,” she said as she approached where they now waited for the lift. Spotting Harry she smiled brightly and reached out to scratch behind his ear. “Who’s your friend?”

Draco hesitated just a moment before saying, “Just a stray I found.”

 _“A stray?”_ Harry was just a bit offended though he realized Draco was probably just teasing.

“He’s adorable. Are you going to keep him?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said as he scratched under Harry’s chin. “Perhaps. If he’ll let me.”

_Hmm… please keep me. I’m safe with you._

Draco bid the Muggle woman goodbye as the lift door opened. At the top floor, they made their way to Draco’s flat. His hands full of wet kitten, he whispered a word at the door to open it. Moving into the large open space, he put Harry down on a coffee table as he continued on toward an area partially separated from the rest of the loft by stained glass panels.

Harry looked around the bright space. The exposed brick walls, covered here and there with tapestries, made the loft feel warm and inviting. Still, he shivered a bit - his wet fur making him chill despite the warmth of the room. Fortunately, Draco returned just then with a thick, fluffy towel. He gathered Harry up into it and began to dry his wet fur. Enveloped in the soft, warm towel, being cared for by Draco, the kitten began to purr loudly.

“There. Much better than a Drying Spell, hm?” Draco placed Harry, still within the folds of the towel, onto the couch. “I’ll change into dry clothes, and then we’ll see about something to eat.” 

Harry was just burrowing further into the towel when he thought he heard a familiar tapping. The furry head peeked out a bit, the ears pivoting to pick up the sound. Yes, that was an owl tap. Harry wriggled out of his cocoon and tried to peek over the back of the couch. Too small. Gathering his convenient cat muscles, he leapt up to the arm of the couch. Alright - perhaps there was some scrambling as well as leaping - his size definitely being a hindrance. Once atop the couch he could see the owl at the window and was mesmerized by the bird. 

Draco entered from the area behind the stained glass panels now dressed in soft, comfortable-looking attire. Though Harry registered some interest in the fact that he’d never seen Draco dressed so casually, well - there was an owl to watch after all. 

“Thought I heard an owl tapping.” Draco opened the window and went through the process of retrieving the attached message. After sending the owl on its way, he turned to Harry to grumble. “It’s a note from Hermione - who has evidently forgotten that I live in a Muggle neighborhood, and that we both own mobiles so she could have called.”

Harry watched him as he read the message. He was pleased to note that Draco was making his way toward the couch. _“I’m ready for food now. Or snuggling.”_ Draco absently reached out a hand to pet the kitten as he read the note. 

“Well, she’s gone back to the Ministry to let Ron know what happened. They’ll be coming by this evening.” Draco dropped the parchment on the low table in front of the couch. “She also suggests that you might be interested in some tuna.” Turning to Harry with a slight grimace he asked, “Why would she even assume that I would keep canned tuna in my cupboards?”

Harry found that his kitten shoulders could not shrug. He did manage to blink his big green eyes and tilt his head a bit to the side.

“If you’ll promise not to tell Hermione - do you promise?” Draco decided to take the enthusiastic meow he received for a yes. “Good. Then I say we order take away - wizard-style. Mimsey!”

A house-elf appeared instantly, startling the kitten. Harry quickly regained his equilibrium and focused his attention on the ears of the creature. He liked the way they seemed to twitch. His ears could do that, too.

“Master Draco summons Mimsey from the Manor. How may Mimsey serve?” The elf was one of the older ones in service to the Malfoy family and tended to be very formal. At the same time, she was one of the few that didn’t seem disconcerted by Draco’s Muggle abode. 

“I’m afraid I missed the mid-day meal. Whatever was served at the manor today will do nicely. Also, my friend will require a meal that will appeal his current feline tastes, but something that the wizard he is won’t regret later.”

The house-elf, with a subtle but curious glance at the kitten, bowed low and Disapparated. Moments later, she reappeared with a tray, and Harry began to meow loudly in appreciation of the aromas that were wafting over to him. Draco picked him up and placed him directly onto the dining table. Mimsey placed a plate of some finely chopped meat in front of him.

“Salmon? That looks tasty, Harry. Well done, Mimsey. He seems to like it,” Draco said. He watched in amusement as the purring kitten attacked the meal.

***=^;^=***

After eating their fill, the two moved back into the area with the comfy couch. “What shall we do now, Harry? We’ve eaten, we’re warm and dry.” Leaving Harry on the couch, Draco went over to a large, dark wood cabinet which he opened to reveal an enormous telly. “I say we take in a film. What do you think?”

 _“Okay. As long as there will be snuggling.”_ The kitten walked back and forth along the cushions of the couch, impatient for Draco to return.

“I hope you aren’t telling me that you prefer romantic comedies. I had something else in mind.” Draco went through a stack of DVDs on one of the shelves in the large entertainment center. After selecting one and setting it up to play, he walked back over to join Harry on the couch. The kitten immediately settled onto Draco’s lap, and the wizard began to brush his fingers through the soft fur. 

As the DVD began to play, Draco, with noticeable enthusiasm, explained what they would be viewing. “This is just like you, Harry. Fist of Fury \- except that with you, of course, it’s ‘Paws of Fury.’ This DVD was a special release that came out just after I returned to England. This film is old, but it’s a classic. See that bloke? That’s Bruce Lee. Have you heard of him?”

Harry purred happily as he listened to Draco explain that this film was a sequel to one that had been called Fists of Fury or The Big Boss. He had actually heard of Bruce Lee, but had never seen one of these martial arts films that Draco was going on about. Harry couldn’t have cared less what movie they were watching. He was just exultant to be sitting here snuggling with his favorite person. And Draco was talking to him in a way they had never talked before. It was as if they were friends and Draco was sharing something - a part of who he was- with Harry.

“I sent a copy to my cousin, Etienne. It’s his fault, after all - this interest in martial arts. You’d like him, Harry. He’s in fifth year at Beauxbatons. You think I was spoiled? His parents give in to his every whim - including what my parents would consider an unhealthy amount of interest in things Muggle. When I was visiting them - this was just before he started at Beauxbatons - he was determined to be the next ‘Muscles from Brussels.’ I took no small amount of fun in frequently reminding him that he wasn’t even from Brussels.”

Draco continued his intermittent commentary as they watched the film. Harry had to admit that the fight scenes were exciting. He purred happily as he watched the film and, once again, reviewed this current, odd set of circumstances. He was a kitten, snuggled up to Draco Malfoy in a Muggle loft watching a martial arts film on Draco’s very large, very Muggle telly. And yet… he couldn’t have been more content.

And there in lay a problem. This wonderfully contented feeling, his full stomach, and the reassuring warmth and scent of his Draco all combined to make him a very sleepy little kitten. He wanted to fight off the urge to sleep, but drowsiness was steadily overcoming his need to stay awake. Harry knew there was a good chance that, with sleep, would come the return to his human form. He knew he should desire that but… what if Draco wouldn’t talk with the man as he talked with the kitten? He wanted Draco to continue to hold him, talk easily with him, care for him. What if that was only for Kitten Harry?

Despite his concerns, Harry could not keep his eyes from drifting shut. As he at last felt himself falling into slumber, he thought he heard Draco whisper, “Go to sleep, Harry. You’ve had a very… unusual day. Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up. Always.” 

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Draco thought about muting the film but decided to turn it off completely instead. He’d rather just watch Harry anyway. Even as a small black kitten, Harry Potter managed to fascinate him. He stroked his fingers slowly through the fluffy dark fur and smiled as the kitten released a soft sigh. Yes, quite an unusual day.

This morning he’d dressed and gone to work like any other Friday morning. Had he wondered, then, if he’d see Potter at all today? He often did, resigned though he was to the fact that they would never bridge the distance between them.

Harry had supported Hermione in her mission to “save” Draco four years ago. Had used a fair amount of his Savior clout to help where he could. Draco had hoped that meant that the two of them could, at last, become friends. He hadn’t dared to hope for more. Just as well, as it turned out. Though they were no longer adversaries, neither had they become any closer. Having noted over the years that Harry was, evidently, not close to anyone (save the Weasley clan), Draco had learned not to take it personally.

Ron’s words from earlier came back to him - 'I didn’t think the two of you were particularly close.'

That was absolutely true. Harry and Draco weren’t close. They were painfully polite to each other. Harry didn’t seem to have a problem with the friendship Draco had with Ron and Hermione. He’d just never seemed interested in getting closer to Draco himself - until he became a kitten. 

He didn’t know why the kitten had become so firmly attached to him. Hermione had speculated that it might be because Draco was with Harry the first time that he changed. Was she thinking it was some kind of animal bonding or something? Oh hell! Did the kitten think Draco was his mother??

Draco frowned down at the kitten. No... surely not. He spent an uncomfortable moment contemplating that possibility. No. Definitely not. Well, perhaps that would be one of the things he would be sure to ask Harry when he was human again.

He wondered how long it would be before Harry reverted to his natural form. The first and last time this had happened, it seemed that sleep and the relaxed state it engendered had triggered the reverse transformation. Harry had only been asleep a few minutes before he had become human again. 

By that measure, Harry could become human again at any moment. However, he’d been a kitten much, much longer this time. Draco wondered if that would correlate between how long it would take him to become human again once he was asleep. If there even was a correlation. There was just so much they didn’t know. The kitten, snuggled comfortably on Draco’s lap, did not seem the least bit concerned about any of it. 

Deciding that he was terribly envious of the kitten’s comfortable posture, Draco lifted Harry carefully while he moved to stretch out lengthwise on the couch. He then placed Harry gently onto his chest. The kitten stirred just the tiniest bit, but quickly settled in once more against Draco’s body. He continued to stroke the soft fur, again smiling at the way the fluffy stuff stuck out in all directions. Typical Potter. 

“All these years,” Draco whispered, “I’ve only wanted your attention. To think, all it took was you managing to get yourself turned into a kitten.” He smiled ruefully at the furry creature. “What about when you turn back, Harry?”

Against his better judgment, Draco found himself daring to hope. During his human moments after the first kitten incident, Harry had given him a few small smiles, even a blush or two. Perhaps he hadn’t been completely mortified to discover that he’d spent a fair amount of time cuddled up to Draco. Maybe he’d be willing to consider continuing the cuddling in his human form? Draco had to admit that - much as he enjoyed spending time with the kitten - he would prefer to spend time with the man.

The kitten again sighed contentedly in his sleep. Still smiling, Draco let his eyes drift shut. The rain still fell outside, the couch was soft and comfortable, the kitten warm and sweet. And hopefully, he’d soon have his arms full of Harry Potter.

***=^;^=***

Draco’s scent surrounded him. Seemed to embrace him. With actual arms. Um… Harry slowly opened his eyes. His glasses were pushed up against his cheek - the cheek that was resting upon Draco’s chest. Oops. He lifted his head just enough to look upon Draco’s face. The other man (Harry now being one man, Draco the other) was asleep. Evidently, he’d decided to join the kitten in his afternoon nap. Harry found himself smiling at the thought. 

He held himself carefully still and took in the sight before him. Beautiful Draco. Blond hair delightfully mussed. Long lashes resting lightly upon smooth, perfect cheeks. Harry would have expected the skin to be, as was usual, alabaster pale, but was enchanted to note a hint of a blush. Perhaps Draco was flushed from delicious dreams. No. More likely he was warm from having another body draped across him. Harry suspected he should have felt guilty about that, but found himself smiling again instead. How often had he fantasized about finding himself in just such a position with the untouchable Draco Malfoy?

That thought brought a small sigh, a slip of the smile. Harry slowly, carefully moved himself off of Draco. He couldn’t bring himself to go far, however. He lay on his side, still facing the gorgeous blond, Draco’s arms still wrapped lightly about him. Still touching. Still feasting upon the sight of the man he wished he had the courage to approach. 

Draco had left England after the war had ended and, to be honest, Harry had not thought much about him in his absence. There had been a certain amount of craziness with the wizarding world adjusting to life after Voldemort. The public could not seem to get enough of Harry at a time when he had just wanted to - finally - live like a normal eighteen-year-old. Eventually life had settled down as much as it seemed it was going to. Harry didn’t feel it was ideal - but that was life, right?

He’d moved into Grimmauld Place and set about trying to make it more livable. He’d discovered he preferred men to women. He’d begun the adventure of a job he loved. And then, somewhere along the line, it had all turned to ashes. He felt ill at ease in his own home. He seemed incapable of making a relationship work. Though successful at his job, he faced most days with unexplainable dread. And somewhere in the midst of his life going to hell, Draco Malfoy had returned.

He’d been amused at first when Hermione had taken up the cause of rescuing Draco and wondered how long it would be before she started knitting him caps. Then, he’d begun to spend some time observing the man. Draco had changed. Not his looks, so much. He’d always been attractive and that had only been enhanced with the passing years. But he’d changed in ways that had taken hold of Harry’s interest. He was kind and funny. Oh, he still had his biting wit, but it was more often expressed in the vein of self-deprecation than turned outward upon others. He was genuinely grateful to Hermione and the others who had championed him. He was… calm - that was the only way Harry could think to express it. He seemed at peace with the world in a way Harry could only ever wish to be.

In short, Draco was the kind of man that Harry wanted to be with. But why would someone like Draco ever want to be with Harry? He was a mess. He was miserable in every area of his life. It took increasing effort to interact with people without feeling like he wanted to shout or strike out at them. Worst of all, he couldn’t figure out why he felt that way - except that he must be flawed. The Savior, idolized and envied by so many, was a myth, a fraud. Undeserving. How could he approach Draco? He couldn’t bear the thought of the man rejecting him. Or, worse, beginning a relationship only to have Draco discover that there was nothing about Harry Potter worth loving.

“Such a serious face.” 

Draco’s quiet voice drew Harry out of his thoughts. How long had the other man been awake and watching him? When Harry didn’t say anything, Draco lifted a hand to smooth the furrowed brow before him. Harry wanted to turn into that gentle touch, but instead began to withdraw from Draco’s embrace with a muttered, “Sorry.”

“Don’t.” Draco tightened his hold around Harry and insisted gently, “Please allow me to enjoy waking to the feel of a gorgeous man in my arms.”

Harry blushed, but remained where he was. The pull of Draco Malfoy was too strong for him to resist. Not knowing if he would wreck Draco’s “enjoyment,” but feeling he should say something, Harry stammered, “I like your place.”

Draco’s smile was warm and Harry’s pulse raced at the sight. “Thanks. I’d probably stay here all of the time, but I feel that I should spend some time at the Manor with my parents. But I never stay there long.” In a conspiratorial whisper he added, “No telly.”

Harry found himself smiling again. “You’re a surprise, Draco Malfoy.”

“So are you, Harry Potter.” Draco whispered the words, his breath sending a tickle across Harry’s face. 

“I think a Muggle flat and karate films put you ahead in the surprise competition.”

“Not karate. Bruce Lee was originally a student of kung fu.” At Harry’s grin, Draco blushed and apologized. “Sorry. I get a little caught up.”

“See. A surprise.” Harry said. “I think it’s brilliant.” I think you’re brilliant, he wanted to say. Instead he gazed at Draco with serious green eyes. “I want to say thank you for… everything you’ve done for me today. And, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? I’d say this situation is beyond your control -”

“Draco. Listen. I’m sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all day. And I’m especially sorry for the things I said to you earlier. Before I - you know - turned into a kitten.” Harry made himself maintain eye contact with Draco. “I want you to know - I didn’t mean any of it. I was just so angry and frustrated. I guess I was just…”

“Trying to pick a fight?” Draco smirked. “Believe me, I recognized the tactics. I was quite the expert, if you’ll recall.”

Harry allowed himself a small sigh of relief. “I just needed to strike out at someone. You were correct earlier when you said that you sort of stepped into the middle of my…”

“Episode,” Draco provided.

“Yeah. Good word.” Harry looked away, trying to formulate what he wanted to say. It was so important to him to make Draco understand. “It was as if a part of me was looking on, horrified, at what I was saying. Then, this other part of me - the louder part - was just going all out. Trying to strike where it would hurt you the most. The worst part is that it was just so… easy.”

“Easy. Yes, I remember what that was like. Lashing out is always easy. If you have any insight at all, hurting someone is easy, too. Keeping yourself from going there - especially when you’re enraged at the world - that’s hard.”

Harry looked at him in surprise and realized that Draco was talking about their days at Hogwarts. Could Draco really understand how he was feeling? Harry furrowed his brow a bit at the thought. He’d certainly seen Draco angry and at his worst. But he didn’t think he’d ever seen Draco out of control - at least not when he was angry. Harry wouldn’t count the Crucio/Sectumsempra incident in the bathroom during sixth year. Draco hadn’t really seemed angry then so much as desperate. Harry could relate.

He startled a bit as Draco’s cool hand again smoothed his brow. “Still trying to pet the kitten?” Harry asked, trying to smile but not really pulling it off.

“Trying to rid you of that frown again. I am far too relaxed to allow you to frown. And we’ll have plenty of time for serious discussion once the Weasleys arrive.” 

“So what should we talk about instead?” Harry asked, quite innocently Draco thought.

“I’m not sure that this situation requires any talking. At all.” 

Draco’s hand was now caressing Harry’s cheek, so, so lightly. He could feel a blush start up his face. His breath seemed caught in his chest as Draco drew him closer. 

Their lips came together in the most exquisite touch Harry had ever experienced. A gentle brush of softness. A breathless seeking of an intimate taste. Bodies melding against one another, Harry’s leading the way. He felt Draco’s hand slip into his unruly tangle of hair and almost thought he felt a purr building within him. 

Draco felt Harry smile against his lips and his heartbeat quicken. Their mouths now moved with more determination. He slipped his tongue inside Harry’s mouth, stroking him with wet persistence. Harry’s soft moan was sweet and compelled Draco’s hips to shift forward, discovering a hardness that matched his own. Draco's breathless cry echoed Harry’s. He wondered if it was it possible to expire from a kiss? Well, at least they’d die happy.

The feel of that hot, sweet tongue rubbing against his was a sensation that went straight to his cock. Harry slipped a hand down to cup Draco’s arse, pulling him closer in an effort to bring that delicious hardness more firmly against him while his own erection mimicked the rubbing motion of Draco’s tongue. Legs tangled like tongues, bodies strove to defeat that aching not-close-enough sensation. And then a knock at the door sent a shock through both of them that was actually painful. 

“Fuck!” Harry exclaimed, breathing raggedly.

“Apparently not,” Draco sighed, also struggling to catch his breath.

They continued to hold on to each other as they worked to breathe normally again. Draco caught Harry’s gaze before placing a quick, soft kiss on his lips. A smile spread instantly across Harry’s face in response. 

“Do you think we can convince them to come back later?” Harry asked.

Before Draco could answer, another knock sounded. With a grimace he said, “What do you think?”

“I think I’d better excuse myself to the loo for a few moments,” Harry said, finally disentangling himself from Draco. Standing, he offered his hand to help the blond do the same. 

“Sure, leave me to answer the door with a raging hard-on.” Draco complained, but gestured toward the area with the stained-glass panels to direct Harry to his destination.

Harry grinned unrepentantly. “You’re a powerful wizard. You’ll think of something.” He turned to leave the room, calling back over his shoulder. “Maybe Ron and Hermione aren’t really all that observant.”

“Here I thought your arse was begging for something else when it only wanted to be hexed!” Draco called after him. He could have sworn he heard Harry laugh.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Laughing, Harry made his way past the stained-glass panels that separated this part of the loft from the main area. He took note of the large, comfortable looking bed to his right. To his left was a door to the only part of the loft that was its own separate room. As he entered the bathroom, he heard Draco call out “Coming!” 

After taking care of all pertinent business, Harry stood looking in the mirror as he washed his hands. He was struck by his reflection. How long had it been since he had looked in a mirror and seen a smiling face looking back? Maybe not a full-blown smile, but definitely a grin. A silly grin. A grin that said he’d recently been engaging in some decidedly beyond-friend activity with a certain gorgeous blond. 

“Better get a hold of yourself, mate. No time for all that right now.” But later, maybe? To be honest, Harry wasn’t sure how he had ended up lying on the couch, making out with Draco Malfoy. Well, he knew why he was on the couch and in that position, but the making out? That was a bit of a surprise. Could Draco really be interested in him?

The grin began to melt away. Why would Draco be interested in him? He was a loser who couldn’t control himself. And now, he was sometimes a kitten. Harry shook his head. However… Draco seemed to like the kitten. He protected the kitten. Took care of him.

That nagging negative voice was telling him that it had been a fluke, a spur of the moment incident that Draco was probably already regretting. But something else in Harry - something that had long seemed buried under the weight of despair - was telling him something different. That Draco did care about him - and not just as a kitten. That Draco would help him and maybe…

Harry straightened and looked at the determined visage gazing back at him. This was too important to give up on. He’d been without hope - about anything - for so long. Draco was a life line, but Harry had to grab hold. Had to pull himself out of the dark swirling desolation. He took a slow deep breath that was not as steady as he would have liked. But when he turned to the door, it was with a sense of sudden possibility.

***=^;^=***

Draco pulled his wand just as another knock cracked against the door. “Coming!” he called out, not bothering to modulate the irritation of his tone. Taking a deep fortifying breath, Draco glanced regretfully down at the bulge in his trousers and cast a spell mastered by every young wizard upon the onset of puberty. The effect was painfully instantaneous and left him taking quick shallow breaths in an effort to ease past the sensation. 

Finally able to move toward the door, Draco pulled it open to find Hermione, wand drawn and about to cast what he assumed was an Alohomora. Draco said nothing with actual words, but his raised eyebrow spoke volumes. Hermione had the good grace to blush. 

Draco then turned his “I am Malfoy and your existence is a pain in my arse” look upon her husband. Ron simply raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Hey mate, I told her to wait. You know how she gets.”

“Ronald!” 

Ron managed to dodge her swat at his arm as he moved quickly past Draco and into the loft. Not seeing Harry, he immediately bent his tall frame to peer under the tables.

“What are you doing?” Draco felt he had to ask, though he was fairly certain he knew. 

“Looking for Harry. Where is the furry little bloke?”

“Not under the furniture. We were napping when you arrived-”

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed. “Is he himself again then?” 

Draco wanted to point out - again - that Harry was still Harry even when he was a kitten, but just rolled his eyes a bit instead. “He’s not a kitten at present. So - yes - the sleep thing worked again.”

“So where is he now?” she asked. “Is he alright?”

“He’s in the loo and seems to be quite alright.” Draco was certain he managed to keep the smirk off his face, though he noticed that Ron gave him an odd look. He sometimes forgot that Auror Weasley was, in fact, very observant.

“I was so worried after what happened at Grimmauld Place,” Hermione said as she settled onto the couch. “I cast a few quick spells to try to determine-”

“I still can’t believe you did that, Mione. And I can’t believe _you_ just left her in that house with whatever it was that had Harry so spooked.” It was obvious that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had already had this conversation, but Ron wanted to make sure that Draco knew he wasn’t happy about it.

“I thought she was right behind me!” Draco told him. Then, looking pointedly at Hermione he said, “How was I to know she’d foolishly stay behind to cast revealing spells in a situation an Unspeakable of her caliber should know not to attempt without back-up?”

“Give her a break, guys.” Harry entered from the other room. “Would you seriously expect Hermione to behave in any other way?”

“Thanks. I think.” Hermione stood to give Harry a quick hug.

“So, did the spells reveal anything?” Harry’s tone indicated that he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know if they had.

“Well, not really. Though, I didn’t take the time to cast anything very complicated.” No one missed the pointed gaze she directed at Ron. 

“No need to stand as we discuss this, is there? Have a seat, and I’ll make some coffee,” Draco offered.

“Well, actually,” Ron said, “We’ve got an appointment at Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts?” Harry asked, moving to stand a little closer to Draco. He was probably the only one in the room who was unaware of it.

“Well, I thought it might be a good idea for a couple of reasons. We need to use a Pensieve, and there’s one in the Headmistress’s office -”

“But why go all the way… ” Harry didn’t even have to finish the question before he realized. “And because the Headmistress is a cat Animagus.”

“Exactly,” Ron said. “Robards has approved me taking this on as a special investigation. He’s fully behind keeping this quiet, and he knows this is the best way. So, we’ve got whatever time we need. Hermione’s already spoken with McGonagall.”

“She’s expecting us after the evening meal, so we’ll need to leave soon. I was able to arrange for a Portkey that will take us to the gates of the school,” Hermione explained and then added, “She’s also making arrangements for us to stay the night if necessary.”

Harry felt that slight but familiar sense of panic that always came over him at the thought of being away from Grimmauld Place over night. He shivered, and Draco immediately took his arm.

“Harry, are you alright?” Draco’s question mirrored the concern they all felt. “This sounds like a good idea - for a lot of reasons. What’s wrong?” 

Harry knew it was crazy for him to want to return to the Black House. He’d felt the evil there. Why would he feel compelled… he looked up suddenly then and tried to verbalize his thoughts. Haltingly he said, “Grimmauld Place… I always ha- have to - be there.”

Hermione took a step toward him, her eyes narrowed. “Harry, I know you don’t like to stay away from home overnight. Are you saying that you… can’t?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked into Hermione’s eyes, the intensity of his effort startling her. “I… it’s what I feel. I’m not supposed to… stay away too long.” 

Hermione verbalized what they had all just realized. “You’re under some kind of compulsion. There _is_ something in that house. Something that’s making sure that you stay there - to stay under its influence.”

“But why didn’t the Healers at St. Mungo’s find that when they checked him out? They said there was nothing magically wrong with him.” Ron’s worry for Harry was obvious. “They’d have found a compulsion, wouldn’t they?”

Hermione didn’t answer right away, so it was Draco who spoke up quietly. “Normally, perhaps. But not if the compulsion is just a part of something else. Something bigger.” Harry was leaning into him, obviously fatigued from the effort it had taken to give them that information.

Hermione knew that Ron was about to launch a discussion about this new twist to the situation. As much as everything that made up her nature - and her training as an Unspeakable - wanted to dig right into it this quandary, they had to prepare to leave. “I know that we need to deal with this, but the Portkey is set to activate in about five minutes.” Touching Harry’s arm very gently she said, “We have to be ready to go.”

Harry nodded his head and straightened his shoulders. His eyes looked haunted, though, and he didn’t move away from Draco. “I think saying it… it doesn’t seem as strong now.”

The others breathed a collective sigh of relief. Though they knew that a compulsion that strong could not be broken easily, knowing about it made them all feel a little more assured.

Harry watched as Hermione reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out - a key. He stared at it a moment before his shoulders began to shake. There was just something so ridiculous about it. Between little gasps of almost desperate laughter, he said “Your Portkey is… a key?”

They all stared at him - worried at his slightly crazed expression and amazed that he could be laughing at a time like this. Ron broke the silence. “Now you laugh?” he asked, a slow smile taking hold of his face. If Harry could laugh even a little, and not seem completely mad, well - it had to mean that things were going to be okay. Right?

“Come on,” Hermione said with her own small smile. “Take hold.”

Draco slipped his arm around Harry’s waist as they both reached out to touch the Portkey. Harry turned his grateful gaze toward Draco and, just as he began to feel the pull of the activation, saw one grey eye give a reassuring wink.

***=^;^=***

They landed exactly where Hermione had predicted. Though Harry had learned to recover gracefully from the various types of magical transportation, he was glad that Draco still held him. He was still a bit weak from fighting the compulsion and, more importantly, Draco’s arm around him just felt so damn good.

Draco felt no inclination to relinquish his hold on Harry. Harry didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps he was more like the kitten than Draco had realized. He turned to make a flirtatious comment about that, but stopped when he saw Harry’s face. He was obviously still fighting some of the effects of the compulsion, and he was now looking with trepidation toward the dark castle. 

They could see someone coming with a lantern to open the gates for them. The moon was bright, though, so Harry was able to see Draco clearly. That was comforting. As Ron and Hermione turned toward the gate to await the lantern bearer, Draco leaned in closer to Harry. Warm breath tickled his ear and he shivered - pleasantly this time - as Draco whispered, “Nighttime at Hogwarts. Would it surprise you to know that, over the years, you’ve figured rather prominently in some… daydreams I’ve had about this place?”

Harry was grateful that the moon, despite its brightness could not illuminate the blush he felt creeping up his face. He whispered back, “Were those the daydreams where you were imagining getting me into trouble or ambushing me with a Tripping Jinx?”

“No, actually. But if you’re interested to hear about them, I seem to recall a plethora of well-placed, poorly-lit alcoves that -”

A rattling at the gates startled both Draco and Harry. They had been so sufficiently distracted, they hadn’t noticed the arrival of the lantern bearer. The lantern swayed as the gate screeched open. Peering at them from the darkness was a familiar face. Harry felt his smile spread at the lilt of the brogue as Minerva McGonagall said, “Hello, children. Welcome back to Hogwarts.”

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn’t raining here as it had been in London. The night sky was clear, and the bright moon illuminated the reunion of the Headmistress and her former students. They had teased her about calling them “children”. She had pointedly told them that if she had seen them more than a handful of times since they’d finished school, she might be able to picture them as adults. Then she had quirked that tight-lipped smile and quickly embraced each one.

Harry, with Draco beside him, followed along behind the others as they made their way toward the entrance of the school. Standing at the gates, the hulking shadow of the castle had intimidated him. Now that he was aware of the compulsion to return to Grimmauld Place, Harry recognized it as the probable cause of his trepidation. Why else would he feel dread for the only place that had ever truly felt like home to him? 

The closer they came to the castle, the more Harry felt his anxiety increasing. Though the night was extremely cool, he could feel sweat begin to trickle down his back. Each step was an effort, as if weights had been tied around his legs. Suddenly, the air seemed charged around him. If Harry had been in his kitten form, he felt certain that the fur on his back would have been raised in alarm. He knew the compulsion was putting up a fight. Not, it seemed, against Harry himself. He was too exhausted to fight. But whatever was happening, Harry felt himself caught in the middle. Tugged between two opposing forces. 

Draco noticed as Harry’s pace began to slow. He knew that Harry was still fatigued from the ordeal of exposing the compulsion. He had been foolish enough to hope that being farther away from Grimmauld Place would dampen its effects. Heedless of the presence of the Headmistress and unconcerned about what their friends might think, Draco once again slipped his arm around Harry’s waist. Harry shifted closer to allow Draco to help him continue into the school.

Despite his slowing but continuous progress toward the school, Harry's desire to turn and run from the castle was overwhelming. Panic seemed finally to reach out and seize him, stopping him in his tracks. Now, standing just before the great doors to the school, Harry realized what was struggling against the compulsion. It was Hogwarts. The school itself - possibly the most magical place in all of Great Britain - was fighting the compulsion. Fighting it for Harry. The compulsion battered him from within. The force of the magic of Hogwarts swept over him like a physical presence. His knees buckled, and Draco’s arm around him was the only thing that kept him partially upright.

“Ron!” Draco called out to the Auror as he struggled with Harry’s sudden dead weight. He had assumed that Harry had lost consciousness and was surprised when green eyes, wide with shock, locked onto him.

Ron moved quickly to Harry’s other side to help Draco support his weight. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. We’d better get him inside.” Draco cast a Lightening Spell so they could move Harry more easily.

McGonagall stepped forward and cast a Disillusionment Charm on the three men. “There are still students about the castle at this time of the evening,” she explained. “Best to avoid speculation. To the infirmary, gentlemen. Quickly!” Swiftly and with purpose, the Headmistress led the way into the castle.

***=^;^=***

Harry had known the moment they entered the castle. The compulsion seemed to rally defiantly one last time before the power that was Hogwarts wrenched it out of him as if tearing out a spike that had been driven through his heart. He gave a wail of painful relief and, as he slipped into unconsciousness, he wondered vaguely if it had sounded only in his mind or if the others had been able to hear it too. 

Now he could feel himself rising slowly out of a well of darkness. Sound returned first, though the quiet bits of conversation flowing around him seemed far away compared to the comforting hum of the school. ‘Welcome home’ it seemed to say to him. 

“ - suddenly just fell -”

“ - still the compulsion?”

“I’ll stay. You check on -”

“Harry?” Draco’s voice seemed very close to him. “I think he’s coming round.”

“Excuse me, Malfoy.” Harry vaguely registered recognition of this new voice and sensed that someone had moved close to him. When he could finally force his heavy lids to raise, his eyes fell upon a young woman with dark hair who was moving her wand over him. Without his glasses and still fighting to regain full consciousness, he could not make out her face. Seeing that he was awake and watching her, the young woman continued her examination, but in a soft voice said, “Hello, Harry. How do you feel?”

Harry easily recognized Cho Chang’s voice. Before he could answer, the blurry forms of Draco, Ron, and Hermione all appeared at the other side of his bed. He managed to give them a small smile. “Hi.” His voice didn’t work quite as well as he hoped that it would, but - though he couldn’t see it - they smiled in relief at his attempt. 

“Harry.” Cho’s voice drew his attention. He could tell she wore a uniform similar to the one Madam Pomfrey had always worn. “Can you sit up and tell me how you’re feeling?”

Harry felt very weak. At his glance, Draco immediately offered his hand to help him up. Hermione handed him his glasses. Once sitting upright, Harry took a few deep breaths while he considered the question of the nurse. “I feel very tired,” he said simply.

“No headache?” Harry shook his head. Cho beckoned the Headmistress to the bedside. “It’s just as you suggested, Headmistress.” Turning back to address Harry she said, “You seem to be fine, Harry. Except you’re fairly humming with magic. I’ve never seen your magical signature before, so I cannot say for certain how much of this is your own magic and how much is that of,” she hesitated as she glanced at the Headmistress, “Hogwarts.”

Harry, too, turned his attention to the Headmistress - meeting her steady gaze. He had felt the power from the ancient school, but he was having a difficult time believing what had happened. Despite his exhaustion, he wanted to hear what she might have to say.

McGonagall gave his hand a reassuring pat as she sat on the edge of the bed to face him. “First, Harry, what about the compulsion? Are you still feeling it?”

He didn’t really have to think about it. “No. I can… think about Grimmauld Place and just feel… nothing, really. I can talk about… not wanting to be there. I don’t feel like I have to be.” He couldn’t help smiling with relief. “It was Hogwarts, wasn’t it? I felt the compulsion putting up a fight - like it knew something was going to… attack it or something.”

“Yes, it was Hogwarts.” She paused and glanced at all of them before addressing him directly. “As Headmistress, I am connected to the school in a way that others cannot be. I feel things about it.”

Ron couldn’t contain himself. “Is that true for anyone who holds that position? That’s why Professor Dumbledore always seemed to know everything, isn’t it?”

Harry didn’t need hear her answer to know that was true, but listened anyway as she explained. “Yes. The Headmaster or mistress is given that privilege. Hogwarts could feel something interfering with you, Harry. Something related to another magic-filled place.”

“Filled with Dark Magic,” Ron grumbled. 

McGonagall shot Ron an irritated look for his second interruption and when he looked suitably sheepish, she addressed Harry again. “Hogwarts did what it needed to do to free you from the compulsion.”

“Excuse me, Professor.” Hermione was a little hesitant to interrupt McGonagall, but had to ask, “Harry works almost every day at a magic-filled place. Why -”

“Because Harry has a particular connection to Hogwarts that he doesn’t have with the Ministry,” the professor explained. “It might be more accurate to say that Hogwarts feels connected to Harry.”

“But - to say that it feels something for Harry - you’re talking about Hogwarts as if it’s alive.” Cho spoke up, startling Harry. Though she still stood fairly close to him, he had forgotten she was there.

“That’s really not all that surprising,” Hermione said. “Many magical places have a kind of sentience. That’s why I asked about the Ministry.”

It was Draco who said, “But the Ministry, in Wizarding terms, is not that old. Even the Wizard’s Council did not predate Hogwarts. The magic here is of the most ancient. I would imagine no one but the Headmistress knows the extent of the power contained within the school.” Draco gave her a deferential nod. 

After acknowledging his nod with one of her own, McGonagall returned her gaze to Harry and said, “I believe, now, someone else might have an idea.” 

Harry held her gaze as he took a deep breath. “I don’t think I can feel everything you can. There’s too much. I don’t think I’m supposed to. But - this thing with the compulsion - it seemed as if the school… took it personally. And the compulsion - I think it knew that the Ministry would never threaten its hold on me. Not like Hogwarts could. It didn’t have to fight before now.” He took another deep breath, exhaustion washing over him.

“I think Harry should rest now,” Cho said, taking note of his fatigue. 

“Harry,” Ron said in an almost apologetic tone, “we really need to get that memory tonight. We don’t have to look at it right now, but just in case you… aren’t quite yourself tomorrow, we’d have it ready.”

Though he knew it was somewhat irrational, Harry felt reluctant to give the memory with the possibility that it might be viewed without him. He understood why Ron wanted it, though. They needed to know if the old woman was responsible for turning him into a kitten. Their Pensieve plan had been delayed too many times already. If he became a kitten again and, for whatever reason, was unable to turn back, the memory would be unattainable. He trusted Ron. The man was very good at his job, and Harry knew Ron would never do anything to hurt him. There was really no reason for him to hesitate. 

Sighing heavily, Harry drew his wand and held it to his temple. As he pulled the wand away, a trail of silvery mist followed along after it. Ron was ready with a glass vial and Harry deposited the memory. Ron then handed the vial over to the Headmistress.

“I’ll keep this in my office, ready for tomorrow.” She gave him one last affectionate pat on the arm before rising from the bed. “Ms. Chang, I’m sure you’ll need to make some preparations for your patient. We’ll let him say good-night to his friends.”

The two women moved away. Harry was pleased when Draco sat down beside him on the infirmary bed. Hermione stepped closer and said, “I’m going to go to the Burrow, Harry. Arthur and Molly are watching the twins, but it’s probably best if I’m there with them tonight.”

“Absolutely, Hermione. I’ll be okay here. Really - no one needs to stay.” Even as he said the words, he hoped that Draco would stay with him. Though he felt comforted by the magic of Hogwarts, he yearned with the kitten’s insistence for Draco’s presence. 

“Draco and I are both staying here at the school tonight,” Ron assured him. “McGonagall has prepared rooms for us. We’ll be able to get started first thing in the morning, if you’re up to it.”

“I’m staying here in the infirmary with Harry,” Draco stated. Harry felt a thrill of relief. “He still doesn’t need to be alone in case…” He raised his hand and made a little cat scratching motion. They had not told Cho about the kitten situation - at the suggestion of the Headmistress. Draco had found that rather interesting. If Poppy Pomfrey was still here, he felt sure that she would have been made aware of the situation with no hesitation.

Ron just looked from Draco to Harry and back again for a moment before shrugging tiredly and saying, “Sure. Why not.” Slipping his arm around Hermione’s shoulders, he said, “Come on, love. I’ll see you through the Floo in McGonagall’s office.” With a nod to the two other men, Ron led his wife over to where the Headmistress waited, and the three of them left the infirmary.

Cho came back over to Harry’s bed with a pair of cotton pajamas. “I think these should fit you, Harry.” She handed them to him and moved to set up the screens around his bed. “You really need to leave now, Malfoy. Harry needs to get some sleep.”

Catching the frosty glint in Draco’s eyes, Harry hurried to answer before the other man could say anything. “Draco is going to stay here in the infirmary, too. I really want someone close by - just in case.” He was too tired to care about his nonexistent reasoning and hoped she wouldn’t question it. 

When she turned back to him, he knew he couldn’t be that lucky. “I’ll be here, Harry. It’s my job to take care of whatever you need.”

Draco thought he might gag. He knew Harry had been involved with Cho when they were in school. The details were a bit hazy now, but that was really beside the point. Harry had once been attracted to her. Now, here she was, planning to see to his every need. The soft pitch of her voice, the batting eyelashes, the territorial attitude she was broadcasting to Draco - all indicated that she would be willing to see to needs other than just medical. Well, not if Draco had anything to say about it. 

Standing with his hand on Harry’s shoulder, Draco’s clipped tones and look of condescension just this side of a sneer sent a clear message. “I’m afraid there are some details regarding this situation of which you must remain unaware. Ministry business. I’m sure you understand.”

Cho gave him a skeptical look, but didn’t sound quite sure of herself when she said, “And your job at the Ministry is…”

“Classified. Need to know basis only.” The look he gave her left no doubt that she, clearly, would never rank among those important enough to need to know anything. “Now then. I’ll need a pair of those pajamas. Just leave them on the other bed there. I’ll help Harry change.” Then he positioned the screen so that she was on the other side of it and turned to Harry.

Harry was shaking his head and giving him a tired, half-grin. “You’re terrible,” he whispered. 

“Yes, I know. Now let's get you into these -” Draco held up the pajamas in obvious distaste “- ghastly night garments. She cannot be serious.”

“You don’t remember what the infirmary pajamas were like? Well, maybe you weren’t in here as often as I was.” Harry sighed deeply. His eyes slid shut for just a moment. Suddenly, he felt his robes being loosened. His eyes flew open and he found Draco’s face very close to his own.

“Stand up for just a minute, can you?” Draco’s voice was gentle as he helped Harry up from the bed. The man was clearly dead on his feet. Draco worked quickly to help him change into the horrid pajamas. He turned down the blankets as Harry put his glasses on the bedside table. After helping Harry into the bed, Draco pulled his wand. 

Harry didn’t hear the spell, but felt the material against his skin change from itchy, stiff cotton to something soft and warm. He looked down to see the pajamas were now covered in little kittens chasing bubbles across the fabric. He was too tired to comment, but was chuckling as Draco pulled the covers over him, tucking him in. Harry caught Draco’s hands and pulled him down onto the bed. 

By the time Draco had Harry snuggled against him, he could hear the even breathing indicating that the other man was already asleep. Draco pressed a kiss against the wild, dark locks and whispered, “Good night, kitten.”

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

_He stood in the dark, oppressive hall of Grimmauld Place. Flakes of moldering plaster fell from the ceiling, thickening air that was putrid with the stench of decay. As he moved forward toward the stairway, the floorboards moaned and splintered, buckling under his weight. Reaching for the support of the banister, Harry saw that his own hand appeared covered in the grime that clung to and darkened the walls. A low groan rose up from beneath the floor as the very foundation of the building seemed to move. The house began to shudder and crumble around him and, in fear of losing his footing, he again grabbed for the banister. It disintegrated in his grasp, the remains clinging to his hand like ashes from a funeral pyre. Then, as he watched in horror, small spidery fracture lines covered that same hand just before it fragmented and fell away from his arm. A wail echoed around him and he thought it was his own - until it curdled into the maniacal laughter of the evil old woman in the ruined portrait at the end of the hall._

He woke, gasping for breath, choking on the filthy air of his nightmare. Draco was sitting up beside him, calling his name. Grey eyes filled with concern searched his face as gentle hands stroked and soothed him. 

“Harry, shh. It’s just a dream.” Draco leaned down to press gentle kisses on the forehead of the wizard trembling in his arms. “Shh… I’m here.” He could feel Harry’s breathing begin to slow and, when he pulled back slightly, saw that the green eyes were no longer wide with fear. 

“Draco.” Harry breathed the name as he pulled the man closer, needing to feel the warm strength of Draco’s body. As his own body calmed, he felt his bed-mate shift them so that - with Draco on his back - Harry lay curled up against him. Wrapped in strong arms, he let the steady, reassuring beat of Draco’s heart lull and comfort him. Sighing softly, he buried his nose into the fragrant skin of Draco’s neck, reveling in that scent that the kitten found so irresistible.

Harry was nuzzling again, so Draco hoped he was settling down. Despite his exhaustion, or possibly because of it, the dark-haired wizard had slept fitfully. At one point, Draco had even considered going to Cho to ask for a Sleeping Potion so that Harry could get some restful sleep. Draco’s attempts to rouse him from earlier dreams had seemed to calm Harry without waking him up. He’d sleep for a while and then grow restless again. This was the first time he had actually woken completely.

“Ummm… scent… so good…” Harry’s quiet, sleepy voice drifted up to him. The breathing was once again becoming steady and Draco felt the last of the tension release from Harry’s body.

“Asleep again,” he whispered. “Sweeter dreams this time, Harry.” Once again, Draco allowed himself to drift into slumber as well.

***=^;^=***

Harry knew it was morning. He sensed it without opening his eyes. He recognized the dread that settled into him just as it had done every morning for… well, longer than he could remember now. That sense that he had nothing to offer the world. That he was worthless and would not be missed if he just hid away, huddled in his bed in Grimmauld Place.

But… something had changed. His waking mind processed bits of sensation. The harder mattress, the light filtering in from a different direction than where his window was located. A quiet, barely noticeable shuffling sound coming from across the room - a room that would have to be bigger than his bedroom at the Black house. Pulling himself from the clinging drowsiness, Harry opened his eyes. Blinking slowly, he reached over for his glasses and found them on the small table beside his bed - his bed in the infirmary at Hogwarts.

A slow smile broke upon his face. Yes, something had changed. He was at Hogwarts, where ancient magic had faced down the compulsion that wanted to shackle him to the place of his nightmares. He was lying on an uncomfortable bed, wearing soft pajamas covered in kittens that Draco had created just for him. He had spent the night, not alone and miserable, but snuggled in Draco’s arms. 

But where was Draco now? Harry felt a momentary twist in his stomach. That part hadn’t been imagined, had it? Before the pessimism could take hold, a flash of movement pulled his vision to the other side of the room. The movement and that shuffling sound were coming from the same source. There was Draco, dressed in black, silky-looking pajamas, the soft morning light illuminating his pale hair and skin. 

Harry watched, transfixed, as Draco, facing away from him toward the light-filled window, moved in perfect grace to a dance with no music. At least, Harry thought he might be dancing. His movements were slow and precise. There was almost something ritualistic about the way Draco seemed to follow a mystic pattern. No randomness, just controlled yet flowing motion. 

Harry thought he could have spent the day watching Draco move like that. But then the movement halted and he stood – very still – for a few moments. Finally, turned toward Harry, a soft, peaceful smile on his face. Harry, though moved by the beauty of this man, felt a pang of longing for that apparent contentment he seemed unable to achieve for himself.

Draco was pleased to find Harry awake and smiling at him. The smile grew as he made his way closer to Harry’s side. “Good morning.” He had almost added “kitten” to his greeting, but had stopped himself before the endearment slipped out. He wasn’t sure how Harry would feel about that.

“Good morning, yourself,” Harry said. “What were you doing?”

“Tai Chi. It’s Chinese. I promised myself I wouldn’t get carried away with any more martial arts talk around you, so I won’t bore you with all the details.” Draco sat beside Harry on the bed, impulsively reaching up to tug gently on one of the unruly dark curls.

“I don’t mind. I think it’s interesting. And that was really beautiful.” 

“Thanks. There are actually a lot of benefits to it - including creating a calm, balanced center.” Draco hesitated before adding, “I could teach you some time. If you want.”

“So that’s your secret,” Harry teased. At Draco’s quizzical expression, he said, “I’ve always thought - since you came back to England - that you seemed… calmer. I’ve wondered about it.”

“Really? I didn’t think you’d noticed me much at all.” He quirked a little smile when he said it, but Harry thought there was something in it that seemed a bit sad.

“How could I not notice you, Draco? When have I ever been able to _not_ take notice of you?” Harry’s voice was a whisper by the end, as he brought a hand up to caress Draco’s cheek. His thumb brushed lightly across the full bottom lip and he felt Draco’s breath escape in a kind of shudder against it.

“Harry! I brought you breakf-” Cho’s irritatingly cheerful voice broke off as she folded back the partition and stopped short at the sight before her. Draco imagined the vision of the two of them sitting close, just poised for a kiss was quite a shock for her. He didn’t even try to work up any concern over that.

“Thanks, Cho.” Harry pulled his hand away from Draco’s face, but didn’t move to put any distance between them. “I’m actually kind of hungry for a change. And it looks like there’s more than enough for two, Draco.”

Draco absolutely could not stop the smirk that pulled at his mouth. “Yes. This looks wonderful. Thank you, Cho.”

The nurse finally regained a bit of her composure. As the tray continued to hover beside her, she crossed her arms and very primly announced, “I just thought Harry should have his breakfast here in the infirmary. I’m sure the Headmistress has made arrangements for you to breakfast with the staff, Malfoy.”

“There’s no need for that,” Harry said cheerfully. “You’ve brought plenty of food.”

“Well, yes.” Cho was becoming flustered again. “I thought that you and I-”

“I smell breakfast!” Ron’s booming voice preceded him around the remaining partition. He snatched a piece of bacon off the tray and immediately began to munch away. Which didn’t stop him from saying, “Nice pajamas, Harry.”

With a snort of disgust and a slash of her wand, Cho sent the tray to move rather more quickly than was advisable toward the end of Harry’s bed. Fortunately, nothing was spilt or lost in transit. Not that she would have known, as she turned away to stride back to her office, slamming the door behind her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Ron asked, as he grabbed a piece of toast and prepared to pile on the jam.

“Not hungry, I guess.” Draco’s tone was beyond innocent. He rose from the bed, giving Harry a smile. “I’m actually not much of a breakfast person - unless I’m at the Manor, of course. Just save me some coffee. I’m going to have a shower and try to change yesterday’s clothes into something presentable for today. Back in a bit.”

Harry watched him go with a dreamy look that was not missed by Auror Weasley. “So,” Ron said, before licking some jam from his finger, “you and Draco, yeah?”

Not having expected Ron to inquire so directly about it, Harry was taken off guard. He blinked and blushed and stammered, “Wh- what?”

“Come on, mate. You two have been attached at the hip since this thing started. Then last night he’s all ‘Well, someone’s got to stay with Harry.’ And now this morning you’re all cuddled up and smiling that - you know - kind of smile thing that people do when they’re - you know.”

Harry poured himself some juice, stalling before he answered. “Yeah. There is something. Not sure what just yet, I guess.” He felt himself smiling at this admission.

“Well, you really seem to like him when you're furry.” Ron paused, another piece of bacon almost to his mouth. Scrunching his nose a bit he asked, “You don’t… you know - _like_ him, like him when you’re the kitten. Do you?” 

Harry grimaced, “Ron! No! The kitten is… like a little child. I don’t think about stuff like that when I’m the kitten.”

“But when you’re not the kitten?”

“Well… yeah, I like him. He’s… amazing. And sweet. And really hot and -”

“Hey! I get it.” Ron caught Harry’s mischievous grin and rolled his eyes. Crunching on some more bacon, Ron became thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I can see that - you and Draco together. Hope it works out, mate.”

Harry knew Ron didn’t mean anything by it, but the reminder that he’d had so many relationships that hadn’t worked out settled heavily in his stomach. Suddenly, he wasn’t as hungry as he had been. Who was he kidding? Him and Draco? Draco was probably just feeling sorry for him. Gloom settled upon him, once again making him feel weighted and sluggish. He wished he could just crawl back under the covers and wait for everyone to go away. He rose and moved to the window, putting distance between himself and Ron.

The leaves barely clung to the trees. The relentless, autumn wind seemed determined to wrench any remaining ones from the mostly barren limbs. He couldn’t have said how long he stood there, looking out over the school grounds. Suddenly he was reminded of his nightmare. The banister falling away. His hand crumbling to nothingness. That was his life, wasn’t it? Everything fell away and would fall away until he was left with nothing. A hollow anguish began to well up inside him. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself to hold it in. 

Hearing the approaching footsteps, Harry turned to see Draco returning from the infirmary bathroom. Ducking his head to avoid the other man’s gaze, he moved to gather his own clothes. “Going for a shower,” he said quietly and walked past Draco, careful to keep their bodies from touching.

Draco immediately noticed the change in Harry. His entire bearing was completely different. What had happened in the time that Draco had gone for his shower? “What’s wrong with Harry?” He turned to Ron who was now stretched out on the bed, almost snuggled against the breakfast tray - which seemed to have all of his attention.

“Huh?” Ron looked up to see Draco standing by the bed, frowning at him. “Where is Harry?” 

“He just left to take a shower and get dressed. And he seemed upset about something. Not ‘angry’ upset,” Draco clarified. “More… withdrawn.”

Ron sat up, a look of concern on his face. “Well, you know, he gets like that -”

“Yes, and that’s one of the things that we’re supposed to be helping him with, isn’t it?” Draco was obviously irritated. “I know you and Hermione are a little more focused on this kitten issue, but it seems that even that is tied in some way to his emotional state.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ron's regret was clear. “He just seemed to be so upbeat this morning. We were talking, then he went over by the window. I guess I just thought he was thinking about you - I mean, uh, your, uh hair… or something.” Ron didn’t quite catch himself before saying something he reckoned he shouldn’t and more or less mumbled his pitiful attempt to cover.

Draco just stared at him for a moment as if not quite sure what to say. “You think that thinking about… my hair… upset him?”

Ron, having evidently decided he had said enough, just pressed his lips together, threw up his hands and shrugged. 

Draco just stared at him. Finally, he shook his head and said, “Why don’t you go on to McGonagall’s office and prepare the Pensieve? I’ll try to see what’s wrong with Harry and try to get him to lighten up. If his mood deteriorates, he might change again before he can look at the memory.”

Ron nodded his agreement. “Hermione should be coming through the Floo there any time now. I wanted to be there to meet her. I’ll let her know about Harry.” He started to leave but then turned back to Draco. “I think he’ll listen to you, Draco. You seem to make him feel better.”

“Sure - when he’s a kitten,” Draco said with a grimace.

“No, not just then.” Ron seemed as if he was going to say more, but instead turned and walked out of the infirmary.

Draco had no time to consider how to handle things as Harry returned just then. He was toweling his hair dry which, Draco realized, gave him the perfect excuse to avoid making eye contact. Well, he couldn’t stay under that towel forever.

“You look refreshed.” Draco decided to go with nonchalance first and see how that played. 

Harry tossed the towel on the bed and appeared to be looking anywhere but at Draco. “Did you have your coffee?” he finally said.

“Oh, no I didn’t. Probably would have been atrocious anyway. Did Ron let you at the breakfast tray? He was practically making love to it when I came back.” Draco tried to keep his tone light but actually hated interacting with Harry in such a stilted way. It felt too much like what they had done for the last four years.

“Yeah. I… had some juice.” Harry was now at least sneaking a few glances at Draco. “Where is Ron?” 

“He’s gone on to McGonagall’s office to meet Hermione. I suppose we should go ahead and join them, don’t you think?”

Harry simply gave a quick nod and walked toward the door of the infirmary. Draco, mouth tightly drawn in frustration, followed behind him. Soon they were walking through the corridors of the school, the only sound between them was the echoing of their footsteps.

What was going on with Harry? Draco didn’t think it could be the Pensieve viewing. Surely he would have discussed that with Ron if he had any concerns. Considering Draco was the one receiving the cold shoulder, though, he felt fairly certain that it must have something to do with him. But what? Harry had seemed fine this morning. Even Ron said he’d seemed “upbeat.” Of course Ron had also said that he’d assumed Harry was thinking about Draco’s hair, of all things. What the hell was that about?

Since this whole thing had begun, Draco had watched Harry’s moods shift. He’d seem alright one moment, then he might be angry or depressed the next. And he often seemed so uncertain. Not at all like the quietly confident person Draco knew he could be. Harry had never exhibited over-confidence or arrogance. But he’d definitely seemed self-assured. Draco supposed single-handedly ridding the world of one ultra-evil, monstrously powerful dark wizard would engender a fair amount of self-confidence. So what had happened to it? Now Harry seemed withdrawn, reluctant to interact with people. As if he doubted his own self-worth. 

Draco almost stopped mid-stride, just managing to keep himself from stumbling as it clicked into place. Mouth twisting into a grimace, he sped up just a bit to match Harry’s pace. As they rounded a corner to turn into a dark side corridor, Draco noticed something up ahead that would provide the perfect opportunity to confront Harry. Perhaps fate – or Hogwarts – was on his side. He drew closer to Harry and, at the right moment, grabbed the other wizard by the arm and dragged him into the convenient, sheltered alcove. 

“Draco, what are - ow!” Harry’s complaint was momentarily cut off as Draco pushed him forcefully up against the wall. “What are you doing?” He struggled, but Draco’s body held him pinned to the cool stone.

“Didn’t I mention something before about alcoves and you and certain fantasies?” Draco’s voice was low, sultry, and he was sure he noticed a flair of interest in Harry’s eyes before the shadow fell again.

“You called them daydreams before,” Harry muttered quietly, now refusing to look into Draco’s eyes.

“I was trying to be subtle,” Draco said. “My mistake. I think I may need to clarify a few things.” He crushed his lips to Harry’s and, when the other man gave a soft cry of surprise, Draco thrust his tongue into that hot, sweet mouth. At first it felt as if Harry might resist. He didn’t pull back, but a tense moment passed without overt response. And then - his answering tongue joined in the play.

Finally, Draco felt Harry relax into the kiss. He softened it just a bit. Slowly, he moved his hands away from where they held Harry’s against the wall. He slid one into the dark, still slightly damp curls and moved the other to caress Harry’s body on its journey to encircle his waist. When he felt Harry’s arms slip up around his shoulders, Draco deepened the kiss again. In the interest of clarification, Draco put all of his considerable skill into that kiss. Based on the soft, sweet sounds coming from Harry, he felt fairly sure they were getting somewhere. In an effort to further clarify things, he then pressed his erection against Harry’s hip and slipped a thigh between his legs. The bucking motion he received in response, revealing the evidence of Harry’s interest, was extremely gratifying. 

Still, just to be _perfectly_ clear, Draco disentangled his hand from Harry’s hair and slid it down his body until it came to rest on Harry’s hard cock. It didn’t rest there too long before Draco began to stroke up and down, marveling at the heat he could feel despite the layers of clothing. Slowly pulling away from the kiss, but keeping his lips close enough to brush softly against Harry’s as he spoke, Draco whispered, “Harry?”

The other wizard, eyes closed, lips still parted, seemed lost in a daze. When Draco again whispered his name, he managed to murmur, “Hmmm?”

“I want to suck your cock.”

Harry’s eyes flew open, and his breath came in gasps. His mouth worked as if he was attempting to form words, but was apparently unable to achieve coherent speech. Draco thought Harry’s kiss-plumped lips and wide, lust-bright eyes made him look absolutely adorable and incredibly desirable all at once. “So, is it safe to assume that I have your attention?” 

Draco bit gently at Harry’s bottom lip while pinning him with a heated gaze. Harry somehow managed to nod in response. Yes, Draco definitely had his full attention.

“Good.” The husky timbre of Draco’s voice caused a noticeable shiver. “Because I want to make sure you’re listening.” He paused and gently squeezed Harry’s cock for emphasis. Harry moaned, evoking a response from Draco that sounded very like a growl. 

“Draco!” Harry gasped and again bucked against the hand that worked him skillfully. 

“Umm, so sweet. Do you know how incredibly sexy you are, Harry? Do you know how much I want you?” Draco was half expecting it, so he wasn’t surprised when - despite his obvious arousal - doubt and uncertainty flickered in Harry’s eyes. Draco allowed his face to fully express all of his longing for this man. “I want you, Harry. I have for a very long time. I know I should be more concerned about the kitten situation, but there’s a part of me that can’t help but be glad about it. It finally made it possible for me to tell you how I feel.” 

Now surprise filled Harry’s eyes, and Draco was sure that he caught a hint of hope there as well. With renewed confidence, Draco continued to bare his soul. “I want to be the one to have your all your kisses. To hold you when you need to be held. Make love to you in the mornings before we have to rush off to work. Steal touches in quiet corners of the Ministry because we can’t go all day without them. Come home and have mind-blowing sex…” Draco brushed his lips against Harry’s in a slow caress that ended with a little nibbling.

Harry felt drugged with desire that spiked sharply as he felt Draco’s hand unfasten his trousers and reach inside. That hand closed possessively around his hardness for just a moment before starting slow almost feathery strokes along the length. “Ohh... god.” Harry clamped his hand around Draco’s to stop the maddening movement, but didn’t move the hand away. Somewhat breathlessly, Harry said, “How can I believe all this? Just yesterday morning…”

“Yesterday morning I had resigned myself to the fact that at least you didn’t seem to hate me anymore. Then you turned into a kitten and, finally, you wanted to be with me. And I couldn’t stop myself from hoping that you might want to be with me when you were just you.” Draco closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again the emotion Harry saw there was raw and honest. “And I think you do, Harry. I think you’re just afraid to believe that anyone could want you so much.”

Harry felt his heart constrict. “How do you know that?”

A slow smile broke onto Draco’s face. Harry thought it was the most beautiful, sexy thing he’d ever seen. But it was Draco’s words that took his breath away. “Because I know you.” They stood just looking at one another for a moment before Draco let his forehead fall forward to rest against Harry’s. 

“I know you’re battling these feelings that, somehow, make you believe that you don’t deserve anything good. I don’t know where that’s coming from - if it’s something magical like a curse, or if it’s just something that we’ve got to work through. But I’m not going anywhere, Harry. If you want me, I’ll be here with you. Always.” Pulling back to look into Harry’s eyes he said, “Do you want me?”

“Yes!” The answer came without any doubt or hesitation, and Harry felt as if some of the desperate negativity that constantly plagued him fell away. He pulled Draco into a kiss, feeling an urgent need to convince this man of just exactly how much he wanted him. Harry held back nothing and possessively kissed, licked, and nibbled at Draco’s sexy mouth. He slid his tongue in, teasing, stroking, tasting. Draco’s response was to make the most incredibly erotic little noises. And to resume the attention to Harry’s still-rigid cock. He felt the smirk against his lips just before Draco pulled back from the kiss.

Harry had no time to wonder about the smirk before Draco dropped to his knees. His lips, reddened and swollen from kissing were as close to Harry’s cock as possible - without actually touching it. Harry jumped in response when Draco’s breath raked the sensitive skin as he said, “Don’t want you to think that I said I wanted to suck your cock just as an attention seeking device.” And then he pressed his lips against Harry’s swollen prick and swept them up and down the length of it.

Harry felt his knees weaken and hoped that he’d be able to stay on his feet. He hadn’t been with anyone in a very long time. Now, he had the man who had figured prominently in his fantasies for the last four years doing just exactly the kind of thing he’d fantasized about. Though - he didn’t think he’d ever imagined that Draco would look as fucking hot as he did just then. The man was lapping eagerly at the fluid that was leaking copiously from Harry’s erection. His enthusiasm was definitely inspiring, and Harry could not stop the loud moan that broke from his lips.

Draco pulled away just enough to smirk up at Harry and say, “Hogwarts. Students. Shh.” Of course the last part was hissed along the length of his cock just before Draco engulfed it with the liquid heat of his mouth. Harry had to hold his fist to his mouth to try to restrain the sounds threatening to escape. Draco chuckled around his arousal which didn’t help the situation at all. And then he became very serious about his task, and coherent thought was no longer possible for Harry. 

Electric excitement thrilled through Draco as he pulled his mouth up and down along Harry’s gorgeous cock. His entire body tingled with it. It could have been the realization of one of his favorite erotic dreams. Or the knowledge that they could be discovered at any moment. More than anything it was probably the fact that the hot, tasty cock that filled his mouth was attached to the man he had almost given up hope of having. Harry. His Harry. He rubbed at his own heated hardness, still trapped under clothing, but that sensation seemed almost secondary to the taste, scent, feel of Harry inside him. 

Harry’s world collapsed down to the pull of Draco’s beautiful mouth as he was sucked into it over and over again. He felt the heat pooling in his abdomen and looked down to watch Draco taking in his cock like he was starved for it. Then grey eyes, dark with lust, swept up to meet his. When he felt Draco’s body shudder, a moan escaping from the mouth fixed exquisitely around him, Harry came with a cry he could not hold in. His release pulsed relentlessly out of him and Draco - eyes now closed as if in prayer - took it all. Finally, Harry was spent. His legs gave out, and he slid slowly down the cold stone wall.

Racing heart beats began to slow. Cleansing Charms were cast, clothing was righted. They sat facing each other, close enough that their bodies touched in several places. It didn’t seem to be enough for Harry. Hands, trembling just a bit, caressed Draco’s hair, his face, his chest. Draco kissed the hands when they came close enough to his mouth to do so. Finally he took Harry’s hands in his and brought them to his lips. Smiling against them, he looked up at Harry through his lashes and said, “So… better now?”

Harry’s brilliant smile made Draco’s breath catch. Then his neck was being tickled again by the nuzzling of the other wizard. “Better.” Harry breathed against his sensitive skin. “In fact, if I was a kitten, you would hear me purr.”

Just at that moment a silver tabby cat walked around the corner of the entrance to their little haven. With breathtakingly fluid movement, the cat morphed into the person of the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Lips pinched into a thin line, hands clasped in front of her, she looked down upon the disheveled wizards still huddled together on the floor. “If you gentlemen are quite finished lounging about whilst others are waiting, wracked with worry, for your arrival, we may all have an opportunity to hear you purr, Mr. Potter.”

The two men stared up at her for a frozen moment, identical expressions of mortification upon their faces. Her sharply raised eyebrow broke them from their paralysis, and they scrambled quickly to their feet. Since, by that time, she had turned on her heel to walk out of the alcove, they didn’t see her mouth quirking into a mischievous grin.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Ron and Hermione regarded them quizzically, and with a hint of concern, when they entered the office of the Headmistress behind McGonagall. He and Draco had tried to straighten their appearances as they had hurried after her, but Harry was certain they still looked hopelessly disheveled. Not necessarily a big change for him, but definitely a noticeable difference for Draco. He did regret that his friends had been left worrying while he and Draco had been… delayed. Still, he couldn’t seem to muster a very large amount of remorse…

Smiling a bit self-consciously, Harry walked over to them. “Sorry you had to wait. We…” And he went blank. What was he supposed to say? We decided to have tea. We got lost. We found a convenient alcove and had to stop so Draco could give me a fucking spectacular blow job… 

“We had some things to discuss,” Draco said as he joined the group and, smirking, stood very close to Harry. 

Ron’s eyes widened just a bit before he became very fascinated with the ceiling. Hermione just looked at them, one eyebrow arching an inquiry that she refrained from actually voicing. 

“I believe Mr. Weasley has prepared the memory for viewing.” Headmistress McGonagall drew the attention of the group to the large stone basin sitting on a table to one side of the room. 

Harry approached the Pensieve with memories of the first time Dumbledore had shown him the wondrous object. As often happened, he felt a sense of amazement as he watched the vaporous silvery substance swirl around the basin. Of all the marvelous magical items Harry had discovered since learning he was a wizard, the Pensieve was still one of the most awe-inspiring. 

He looked up from his musing of the object to discover the others gathered around the table. Anxiety began to twist in his chest at the thought of being exposed to everyone – though he realized this was irrational. These were his friends and the memory was unlikely to reveal anything highly personal. The nagging negativity, though, wanted him to guard his secrets. Wanted him to distance himself from his friends. 

Harry felt as if a room shrouded in darkness was suddenly flooded with light. Recognizing with sudden clarity that this negative force wanted him alienated from his friends, Harry strengthened his resolve overcome the drive of that hostile energy. He felt encouraged that, since the discovery of the compulsion, he seemed to be more aware of this other negative force and was beginning to realize that perhaps all that anger and depression were coming from somewhere else - not necessarily from inside of him. 

He straightened, determined to view the memory with all of his friends there to support him. Except… they were all looking expectantly at him, and Harry felt the panic rising again. Perhaps there was a compromise. Focusing most of his attention on Ron, he asked, “Do we all need to go in?”

Ron looked momentarily surprised but then reassured him. “Well, no. I suppose not. I’m on the case here though, so I really need to have a look at the memory.”

Hermione answered in her professional, rather than her friend, voice. “If the old woman did cast something, it might be magic that I would recognize. I’ve had an opportunity to study a lot of obscure magic in the Department of Mysteries.”

Draco spoke up next from beside Harry. “I’d like an opportunity to look at the memory. You’ve said that you don’t remember the incident clearly. That indicates to me that some sort of Obliviation may have been used.” 

As a group they turned to McGonagall to hear her reasoning for viewing the memory. She regarded them with mild surprise - as if she hadn’t expected to be questioned about it. Straightening her already ramrod posture, she said, “It’s my Pensieve.” 

Seeing Harry’s almost painful uncertainty, Draco said, “I can wait to view the memory. I agree with Ron that he should see it with you. Auror business and all that.” Giving Harry what he hoped was a reassuring grin he added, “Maybe she was just trying to order lunch after all.”

There were sheepish looks shared amongst the other three as they realized that Draco, who did have a very valid reason for viewing the memory, was stepping away. He had taken note of Harry’s now obvious discomfort and was doing what he could to ease it.

“No, Draco. I think you may be right about the Obliviation,” Hermione said. “You should view the memory with Ron and Harry. I have something else that I need to discuss with Professor McGonagall anyway. We can always view it afterward - if you feel that we should, Harry.” Harry’s obvious relief was all the confirmation that Hermione needed.

After McGonagall gave him a reassuring nod and moved away with Hermione, Harry stepped closer to the table. Looking from Ron to Draco, he took a deep breath and simply said, “I’m ready.” With a nod from the other two, the three men bent forward to press into the silvery liquid of the Pensieve.

They were at the scene of the explosion in Diagon Alley. Harry felt embarrassed as he watched himself ranting and railing against the situation and anyone who got in his way. 

“Look,” Ron said, “there she is.” He pointed to the old woman who was lying on the ground only a few feet from Pensieve Harry. 

The woman looked ancient and frail. It seemed as if someone had already given her preliminary care as there was a cloak pillowing her head and a cloth of some kind had been wrapped around her leg to staunch a bleeding wound.

As they watched, two mediwizards appeared right beside her. Before they could bend to assist her, the Harry in the memory ran toward them, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Watch out! You’re supposed to be here to help people, not injure them further! Idiots!”

The men were obviously startled and seemed abashed at the harsh reprimand. They quickly bent to secure the woman onto a stretcher which Levitated into the air, bringing her closer to Harry in the process. One of the mediwizards began casting some diagnostics on her and seemed to take no notice when the old woman reached out to clutch Harry’s arm.

Harry found himself staring into the old woman’s blue eyes, whitened by age, just as his Pensieve image was doing. This time he could see her clearly, nothing distorting her image. Despite the raspiness of her voice, her words rang with power and the three observers had no difficulty hearing her.

“Bellow, bluster… your rage is insignificant. No more than the mewing of a kitten. Do not be afraid. He will save you. Calm you. Love you. Now, be silent awhile.” She released her grip on Harry’s arm, and her wrinkled lids closed over her faded blue eyes. Then the mediwizards Apparated her away from the scene, leaving Harry standing, as if Stupified.

***=^;^=***

Draco watched the scene with interest, however he was equally interested in Harry’s response to it. He could tell that Harry was mortified by the behavior his Pensieve image exhibited. When the old woman began to speak, all three of the observing men were riveted by her words. Ron, Draco, and even Harry evaluated the statement from their professional perspectives, but all were concerned on a personal level as well.

As an Obliviator, Draco suspected that the old woman had done something to the mediwizard who had been attending to her as she spoke to Harry. That man had not even seemed to notice that she had grabbed Harry’s arm and did not react in any way to the odd proclamation she made. It seemed obvious to Draco that the woman had done something to Harry to make him lose consciousness as well. All without a wand. That was what the Obliviator observed. 

“…He will save you. Calm you. Love you.” These words left Draco breathless. Hadn’t Harry the kitten turned to Draco for protection? Wasn’t Draco able to calm both the kitten and the wizard? Wouldn’t it be quite easy for Draco to fall completely in love with Harry? It was possible that he was already there. His feeling of elation was short-lived as he turned to look at Harry just before they left the Pensieve vision. Harry appeared a bit wild-eyed and glanced quickly away when he noticed Draco looking at him.

They’d had a productive morning and Draco felt that they had reached an understanding about interests and intentions. But Harry was dealing with a lot of issues at the moment and was extremely skittish. Draco wasn’t certain if Harry’s panicked look resulted from the old woman’s words about “love” but he wasn’t going to chance losing the ground they’d gained this morning. He needed to talk to Harry.

***=^;^=***

“Bellow, bluster… your rage is insignificant. No more than the mewing of a kitten. Do not be afraid. He will save you. Calm you. Love you. Now, be silent awhile.” 

So the woman had worked some kind of magic that caused him to become a kitten - and it was related to his rage. Harry supposed he wasn’t really surprised. Ron had been fairly suspicious of it after all, and he usually trusted his friend’s instincts. Harry now realized it was the negative force that was clouding his own judgment on these things. 

But was it a curse? The last part didn’t sound that way. In fact, it sounded a bit… hopeful. The old woman’s words had immediately made Harry think of Draco. But - what did Draco think? What if he thought that Harry’s attraction to him - this thing that was developing between them - was only the result of whatever magic the old woman had worked upon him? Draco had been fairly straightforward about his feelings for Harry. But had Harry explained to Draco that his interest preceded this business with the old woman by years? He risked a glance at Draco just before he pulled out of the Pensieve. Draco was staring at him intently, and Harry was afraid it did not bode well. They really needed to talk.

***=^;^=***

“Well, that was enlightening.” Ron was obviously pleased that his hunch about the old woman had proven correct. 

“What did you find out?” Hermione asked anxiously, though she made sure to direct her question to Harry.

Harry blinked and, in a rather distracted tone said, “Ron was right. The old woman did do something.” He shot a few glances at Draco, trying to gauge what the other man was feeling. With a sudden determination, Harry turned his attention to Hermione and Headmistress McGonagall. “I think you do need to take a look at the memory. I want both of you to see it. See what you think. Right now.”

Hermione looked about to burst with excitement. She and the Headmistress moved quickly to the table and bent into the Pensieve. Ron opened his mouth to speak but, before he could say anything, Harry grabbed Draco by the arm, muttered “We need to talk.” 

Harry pulled Draco with him to stand by the window at the far side of the room. Afraid to waste any time, he blurted his concerns all at once. “I know that it sounds like the old woman cast a spell to make me feel something for you - or someone. I mean - the whole ‘care for you, calm you, lo- um… calm you’ thing. I know it seems like she made me go looking for that or something. But I wasn’t. I mean, when I turned into the kitten, I was scared and you made me feel so safe. But I don’t think it had anything to do with her. I - you - I already felt something for you. I just… you were right before. I do want you, Draco. I have for a long time. Long before that old woman. Almost since you came back to England.”

Harry finally paused to draw air, so Draco took advantage of it to say, “That long?” He smiled gently at Harry, utterly charmed by the other man’s hurried confession. Draco was relieved that, rather than seeming spooked by the old woman’s words, Harry was trying to reassure him. “That’s good to know, Harry. I’d hate to think my feelings were unrequited.”

“They are definitely requited!” Harry avowed, giving Draco a brilliant smile. Impulsively, Harry threw his arms around Draco’s neck and drew him into a kiss. 

Neither noticed as the two women stepped away from the Pensieve and were immediately shushed by Ron. Auror Weasley had been covertly straining to hear what was being said between the two men and had been inching closer to them to facilitate the eavesdropping. Hermione, quickly taking in the situation, motioned for her husband to come back so that Harry and Draco would have a bit of privacy. Ron blatantly ignored her.

The kiss was a sweet acknowledgement of the feelings between them. Lips pressed, brushed, caressed, lingered. With a sigh and a return of the smile, Harry pulled away just enough to lay his head on Draco’s shoulder. Unable to resist, he immediately nestled his face against Draco’s neck. Another happy sigh escaped him.

Draco held Harry close, savoring this affection. “So… this neck-snuggling thing. Is it something you’ve always done, or is it the kitten in you?” He felt Harry smile against his neck.

“It’s your fault, actually. You have this scent I can’t resist. I never noticed it until I was a kitten. Now I just can’t get enough of it.”

Worry furrowed Draco’s brow. He tried to decide how to ask the question. “You don’t think… this thing with the scent and you wanting to be with me when you’re furry… you don’t think I’m… your mother or something, do you?”

Harry’s head shot up and he gaped at Draco incredulously. Draco was actually blushing just a bit! A laugh suddenly bubbled up inside of Harry, and that feeling had been too rare to waste it. He allowed his mirth to spill out and felt rewarded when Draco broke into a grin.

Their audience watched quietly from across the room, but didn’t disturb the two men. Hermione’s eyes blinked against happy tears, and Ron expression was smug as if to say that he had known about something long before anyone else had guessed. A pleased smile warmed the countenance of the headmistress as she watched obvious happiness bestow itself upon a most deserving recipient.

Draco was the first to realize that the room was unnaturally quiet, and that their private exchange had an avid group of witnesses. Despite this, he was unable to resist placing a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek. He then rested his forehead against Harry’s, drawing him close. “I think we’re holding up progress again.”

“Oops.” Harry glanced shyly over at the other three before drawing back to look into Draco’s eyes. Returning the smile he saw there he said, “I suppose we’d better get back to the business of the Pensieve memory.”

“And you still need to try to get furry with McGonagall.”

Harry scrunched his face. “That didn’t sound quite right.”

Draco smirked. “Do you want me to see if she has some bubbles?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I think you have as much fun with that as I do.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.” Draco ended their embrace, but took Harry’s hand as they walked toward their friends.

Harry paused, pulling Draco back. He bit at his bottom lip as he looked up into Draco’s questioning face. “I - that is, the kitten - um, kitten me… I really like it when you play with my paws.”

“Did he say ‘balls’??” Ron’s loud whisper to Hermione seemed to reverberate around the room.

“PAWS!” Harry and Draco said in unison as they continued toward the others - still holding hands.

McGonagall motioned for everyone to be seated while they discussed what they had seen in the Pensieve. “Well,” she began, “I’m sure that we can all agree that the woman did cast some kind of magic upon Harry.”

“Yes,” Harry spoke up. “The reference to the kitten is a pretty clear indication that what’s happening to me is a result of something she did. And the fact that she started it all with the comment about my ‘rage’ seems to validate the link we noticed between the two issues.”

“But then the next part sounded almost like a… prophecy,” Ron pointed out. Harry groaned at the word.

“Not, of course, like your previous prophecy, Mr. Potter,” the Headmistress asserted. “And not necessarily a prophecy at all.”

“The tone of this was more in the way of, well, encouragement I suppose. She told you not to be afraid,” Hermione said. “Except it was a little more specific than that.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “She told me ‘he’ would save me.” He gave Draco a shy grin as he bumped their shoulders together. “My hero.” Harry’s grin widened as Draco actually blushed.

Ron was thinking it through like the Auror he was. “So, she had to be some kind of a Seer then, didn’t she?”

“There does seem to be some element of that,” Hermione reasoned. “Especially that last part. The question about the first part is, was she responding to this one episode of ‘rage’ she witnessed, or did she somehow know or sense that this was a bigger problem.”

“Yes. A problem that needed a kitten intervention, evidently,” Draco said.

“So you’re all fairly certain that the rage itself was not her doing?” McGonagall asked.

“I only wish it was that simple,” Harry said.

“We’ve already established that Harry’s anger and emotional problems started before the encounter with this woman,” Hermione explained.

“When did that begin?” the Headmistress asked.

“Before Draco returned from England - and that was about four years ago, right?” Harry looked to him for confirmation, and Draco nodded.

“Right at that, yes.” Draco frowned. “So, how long before those four years?”

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione as they all pondered the question. Hermione answered. “I know I noticed some things before then, but I think Harry’s the only one who can really answer that.”

“I know I was fine after the war. Pretty great, in fact. We started Auror training.” He indicated himself and Ron. “I started cleaning up Grimmauld Place.” Harry grimaced with distaste for the house.

“When was the last time you remember that you didn’t feel these negative emotions?” McGonagall asked.

Harry thought about it. “It’s hard to say. Nobody feels happy all the time.” He looked at his friends again and seemed to consider something. “I remember when Hermione found out she was pregnant. I was so happy for the two of you. I thought - everything’s worked out after all. We made it through the war alive, great jobs, great possibilities, babies. Yeah - I remember thinking that life couldn’t really get any better.”

Ron laughed, “Yeah - and when you told me that I remember saying that it could get better - if you’d just get that crazy old bat off the wall!”

“Well, I finally did!” Harry said adamantly. Then he shivered a bit as he recalled his dream of the previous night.

Draco, sitting close beside Harry, noticed the shiver and the shadow that had fallen across his features. “What’s wrong, Harry?”

Harry hesitated. He suddenly felt keenly the scrutiny of the others. He fought against the anxiety that he now realized was likely caused by that malignant force. Draco’s hand gently squeezed his in encouragement, and he was able to continue. “I had a dream about Grimmauld Place last night. And about that portrait.”

“Well you did have a pretty frightening experience there yesterday,” Hermione said. “And then finding out about the compulsion to stay there. Headmistress, didn’t Cho say that Harry was infused with Hogwarts’ magic? Maybe it was still targeting anything related to the compulsion. That would have to include your feelings about Grimmauld Place. Any one of those things might have caused you to dream about it.”

“Harry,” the Headmistress said, “tell me about the dream.” Her voice and serious mien indicated there was more than just idle curiosity behind her request.

“It was really more of a nightmare,” Harry told her. “I was standing in the hall, near the bottom of the stairs. That dark grime was on the walls again - like it was when it was Order headquarters.” Harry paused to fix the picture of it in his mind. “It was worse, though, than it ever was then. It was like the house was just falling down around me. And the smell - like something was rotting.”

Draco’s head snapped up at the mention of the rotting smell, but Harry had closed his eyes to recreate the image so he didn’t notice. Mouth pressed into a tight line, Draco listened as Harry continued to relate the details of his dream.

“Then the whole house started to shake, and I grabbed for the banister. It just fell apart in my hand. Actually, it turned to ash. And then,” Harry opened his eyes and swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. “then my hand did the same thing. It just turned into ash and fell off. I think I yelled or something. Or maybe not. In the end, I thought I heard this crazy shrieking coming from the portrait.”

He looked up to find Ron and Hermione staring at him, their faces pale with horror. Needing comfort and finally having somewhere to turn for it, Harry pressed himself closer to Draco. As he turned his face in search of that calming scent, Draco’s arms encircled him and a soft kiss was placed on his cheek.

The group was quiet for several moments before Draco broke the silence. “Well, that gives us another clue to follow.” The others turned to him, curious. “That rotting smell from the dream and the house collapsing - there’s something about it that rings familiar.”

“Dark Magic?” Ron asked.

“Old magic. I’m not sure if it’s Dark. Something akin to it, perhaps,” Draco explained. “And, if it’s the kind of thing I’m thinking, the compulsion would make sense.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked

“It has to do with pureblood inheritance traditions.” Draco was obviously trying to recall something. After a moment, he gave a quick shake of his head as if to clear it and said, “I really want to talk to my parents about this. As I said, there are some elements here that seem familiar to me. There’s a very good possibility that my parents would recognize it and be able to tell us much more.”

“So you’re thinking that this has something to do with Sirius making Harry his heir?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know, but we definitely know that it has something to do with Grimmauld Place. The incident there yesterday and the compulsion tell us that.”

“I agree with Draco,” Professor McGonagall said. “Although Harry was the legal heir, family tradition – especially in powerful old pureblood families – cannot be ignored. When will you speak with your parents about this?”

Draco looked at Harry as he answered. “As soon as possible I should think. After you explore the kitten issue, of course.”

Harry gave a small nod of agreement. “It’s the only real lead we have on anything. I mean, we verified that the old woman cast something on me, but we have no idea what or how to find her at the moment. I really feel, instinctively, that my anger and depression are tied to whatever that evil was that I felt at Grimmauld Place. It makes sense to pursue that lead.” This was the confident Auror that Harry had almost forgotten how to be. He didn’t know how long it would last, but he liked the admiring look in Draco’s eyes as he listened to Harry reason through the case. 

“Well then,” McGonagall said, rising from her chair, “let’s examine this kitten situation. My understanding of the plan is that we are going to try to compel you to change without the rage, correct?” 

“Do you think it’s possible, Professor?” Harry’s voice was hesitant and hopeful all at once. 

“We can only try, Harry. Are you ready?”

“Yes. Wait!” Harry turned to the others. “If I am able to go furry, but can’t change back, I want to stay with Draco.” Meeting Draco’s gaze specifically, he asked, “Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’m quite attached to you as a kitten,” Draco said, smiling. “Does that mean you’re willing to accompany me to the Manor? I really do want to talk to my parents as soon as possible.”

“Yes. But, I’d really like to be a part of that conversation when I can contribute more than just a meow.”

Hermione said, “Well, hopefully you’ll be human when you go to the Manor. If not, it may be that sleep will still have the same effect on the kitten regardless of how you changed. You might be human again once you’ve slept. Could the conversation with Draco’s parent wait until then?”

“I think we’d have to wait. My parents may have questions for Harry, and he’d have to be human for that.” Draco turned to the Headmistress. “Do you think Harry will be able to Transform into the kitten and then change back - without the impetus of the anger?”

“I really can’t say until we try,” she said. “The encouraging part, Harry, is that you still have Hogwart’s magic to help you. I can feel it.”

“Me, too.” The thought made Harry smile. He scanned the faces of his friends for a moment, then finally turned again to the Headmistress. “I’m ready, Professor, whenever you are.”

“Very well. Let’s sit over here on the sofa.” When the two of them were settled, she began her explanation of what she wanted him to attempt to do. “I want you to close your eyes. Now, before you start to think of the form of the cat itself, I want you to focus on sensation. What do you feel when you’re the kitten? How is sound different in your cat’s ears from your human ones? How does the surface feel against the pads of your paws? What are some of the scents that you’re more aware of with your keener sense of smell?” 

Harry smiled widely at this and McGonagall said, “Focus, Mr. Potter!” When she was satisfied that he had fully returned his attention to the task, she continued. “Now, if you are sure you are attuned to the senses of the kitten, begin to picture yourself as the kitten. Even small details are important. Build it slowly and -”

There was no flash of light this time. Smiling broadly with his eyes still closed, Harry’s body transitioned smoothly from the wizard to the kitten. Big green eyes blinked open to see his friends all staring at him in amazement. _“Hi.”_ The kitten meowed the greeting.

It took a few moments for McGonagall to move past shocked surprise in order to simply say, “Amazing!”

“That’s Harry,” Ron shrugged.

McGonagall’s Transformation was quick and, despite the apparent ease with which Harry had managed his change of form, done with more noticeable finesse. The silver tabby, with the markings around the eyes in place of the human’s spectacles, sat serenely beside the small black kitten.

 _“Hi, Minnie!”_ The kitten greeted the older cat.

_“Hello… not Harry… what’s your name, little one?”_

_“Pof!! It’s for my paws of fury, see?”_ The kitten sat back on his haunches and managed to swipe his front paws in the air before tumbling to his side on the sofa. He quickly got up and hopped back over to the tabby. _“That’s what Draco says.”_

 _“Draco is your caretaker?”_ The Headmistress, in her Animagus form, used the language of cats. Although she was already fairly certain that Harry’s wasn’t an Animagus Transformation, she didn’t think he was fully a cat either.

 _“He’s my favorite person!”_ The little kitten bounced happily. He supposed that Draco did take care of him, but that wasn’t the only reason Harry loved him so. _“He’s happiness and safety and his scent makes my heart smile.”_

 _“I believe you like him when you're human, too.”_ The tabby swished her tail around to blanket her paws. She flicked it absentmindedly as she observed the little cat.

 _“I do. And he likes me always.”_ The kitten inched forward, wide, blinking eyes following the flicking tail of the tabby. _“Do you like bubbles, Minnie?”_

 _“Bubbles? Well I -”_ The kitten launched himself at the tabby’s tail – and was summarily thumped on the top of his furry head by a silver paw. _“Mr. Potter!”_

The little black ball of fluff crawled away from the tabby – ears flattened and wearing what was easily recognized as a pout by the three humans watching the exchange. 

“Oh, we are so going to give him hell about that,” Ron said in utter delight. “For a really, really long time to come.”

Pof settled on the end of the sofa, farther away from the tabby than he had been. He rested his head on his front paws, refusing to look at her. But that was okay. Now he noticed Draco, standing next to Ron and Hermione, smiling at him. The furry head popped up. _“Draco! Come play with me. Minnie’s being mean.”_

 _“He can’t understand you, Pof.”_ The Headmistress had, for the most part, recovered her composure after being the victim of ‘Paws of Fury.’

Draco walked over to the sofa, just then, to stroke the dark, furry head. _“Oh,”_ the kitten said to the tabby. _“Really?”_

 _“Don’t be impertinent!”_ she said to the smugly purring kitten. 

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

The little black kitten purred happily as Draco scratched behind his ears. Harry as a kitten was just too hard to resist. He’d looked so adorable, pouting, after the silver tabby had thumped him on the head for attacking her tail. Draco knew he shouldn’t have interfered with the Professor McGonagall’s evaluation of Harry’s kitten form. He just… missed the kitten. There was something addictive about the little beast.

Still, Draco gave a final pat on the furry head and moved back away from him. He didn’t go too far, choosing to crouch down just a little way from the sofa.

The kitten was not pleased. _“Draco! Come back!”_

“Go talk with Professor McGonagall now, Harry. We’re very fortunate that her Animagus form is a cat. I’m sure she’ll be able to help.” Draco leaned in a bit to give the kitten a stern look. “No more pouncing on her tail, though!”

Harry ducked his head a bit and managed to look sheepish in his feline form. He slunk back over to the older cat. The way she seemed to be looking down her nose, posture straight and severe, was something the kitten recognized from the wizard’s memory. The headmistress was not pleased.

With a huff, Pof sat down beside the tabby. Near enough to engage in an exchange, far enough to avoid her paws. _“Sorry, Minnie.”_

The silver tabby seemed to relax her posture a bit. After a moment she said, _“Very well. Instincts are difficult to ignore. Especially for one so young.”_

 _“How do you do it?”_ he asked.

_“As an Animagus, I am not as ruled by my animal side.”_

_“So does that mean I’m not an Animagus?”_

_“I don’t believe you are, Pof.”_ The tabby walked over to the kitten and seemed to be examining him. Finally she said, _“Hermione told me that you Apparated. What other magic can you do?”_

The kitten once again stretched out his body, putting his head on his little paws. _“I don’t know. What do you want me to do?”_

_“Well, I assume that Apparating is one of the things you can do wandlessly under normal circumstances. What other wandless spells can you perform, Pof?”_

_“Wandless? Lots of stuff.”_ The kitten, excited by the thought of casting magic, hopped up again. _“I can cast a Stinging Hex!”_

The older cat managed to look disapproving again. _“And who would cast it upon? Draco?”_

 _“No! I don’t want to sting Draco!”_ Pof swatted adamantly at the air in front of him for emphasis. Then, settling down a bit, he seemed to give it some thought. _“How about Ron?”_

_“Pof! You would hex your best friend?”_

_“Well… just a little Stinging Hex. Ron’s tough.”_ The kitten blinked his big green eyes beseechingly at the tabby but could tell immediately that she would not allow him to cast the hex. Another fun wrecker. _“Okay,”_ he said dejectedly. _“Oh! I know! Wingardium Leviosa!”_

Ron yelped as he felt himself lifted off the ground. He quickly realized that his furry friend had cast the levitation spell upon him. “Thanks so much for making me a part of this, Harry," Ron said dryly, floating above his wife.

Minerva returned her attention from the floating Ron to the furry Harry. _“Interesting. You may put him down now.”_

 _“Do I have to? He looks funny like that.”_ The kitten cocked his head to the side and watched his floating friend with interest.

_“He’s your friend, not a toy. End the spell. Gently!”_

The kitten mumbled something that sounded like “just a prank” before casting a spell to bring Ron back to the ground. Gently. Then he looked expectantly toward the silver tabby, awaiting her next instruction.

 _“Well, I believe I’ve seen enough,”_ she said. _“Let’s try to change back now.”_

 _“What?”_ Pof began to feel some of the panic that was more common for his human form. _“But - no! I don’t-”_ The small animal moved closer to the end of the sofa where Draco was now kneeling. _“Draco!”_

The silver tabby followed the kitten and settled beside him. Pof was fidgetting with anxiety. _“Draco will still be here when you change. He likes you always, remember?”_

_“But… it’s so hard, Minnie. I’m so sad when I’m just Harry.”_ The kitten, feeling very helpless, trembled with fear. _“It’s too big.”_

The tabby nudged him gently with her nose. _“Whatever is causing this, you can defeat it, Pof. Your friends will help.”_

The kitten felt the need to cry out, but managed to hold it in. Minnie was right. He had help against this malignant force that was trying to destroy him. And, with the discovery of the evil at Grimmauld Place and the exposure of the compulsion, he was becoming more aware of how it was affecting him. That knowledge was power. 

_“Okay… I’ll try.”_ The kitten sat down beside the silver tabby, green eyes large with worry, but with a glimmer of defiance and determination.

 _“Very well,”_ the tabby said. _“We’re going to attempt to reverse the process. Think of yourself in your human form. Again, what and how do you see, feel, smell?”_

In his mind, he pictured his friends as they appeared when he was standing next to them - as opposed to looking up at them from the floor. He imagined the feel of the snitch fluttering in his hand, caught to end a pick-up Quidditch game between Auror squads. He took himself through a range of sense memories, exploring in that way what it was to be the wizard, Harry Potter.

The Headmistress seemed to sense that Harry had reestablished the link to his human self. Now would be the trickier part of the Transformation process. _“Now - picture yourself in your wizard form. See yourself as you normally are.”_

First he imagined the face he saw when he looked in the mirror. His messy black hair, too long because he hadn’t cared enough about his appearance to see to regularly cutting it. The green eyes that had always seemed too large to him stared out from behind the more stylish, wire-framed glasses he’d chosen to replace the ones he’d had no choice in wearing when he was a child. 

He pictured himself striding through the halls of the Ministry in his smart-looking Auror robes. Next, chasing and tumbling about with Ron and Hermione’s twins in the garden at their home. Finally, wrapped around Draco on the couch in the loft. And he wanted it. He wanted to change back into the man who did all of those things so that he could do them again. The wizard inside the kitten willed himself to change.

And remained furry. The kitten looked down at his paws. Back at his tail. He turned around in little circles as if looking for his human form. Finally he stopped and, cocking his head, addressed the silver tabby. _“It didn’t work, Minnie.”_

The older cat regarded him for a moment. _“Did you try your best, Pof?_

 _“I did – I promise!”_ The tiny kitten raised his paw as if to swear to his statement. _“I thought about all the things I like about being human. I swear, Minnie.”_

_“I believe you, little one.”_

_“Do you think I’ll be a kitten all the time now?”_ It was obvious that, despite earlier expressing reluctance about having to deal with all of the human’s problems, the kitten was truly worried about this new twist.

Minerva looked at the tiny kitten and was certain she could see the courageous young man who had fought all his life to survive. _“I believe you’ll be whatever you want to be. Don’t worry now.”_ The tabby gave one last nudge to the small furry head of the kitten.

The observers watched as the form of their former professor transitioned effortlessly from the silver tabby cat. She still sat upon the sofa, now gently stroking the soft fur of the kitten. Finally, she looked up into the expectant faces of the other three.

“Mr. Potter was not able to transition back into his human form at this time. But -” the Headmistress held up a hand to forestall their questions, “I believe that your theory that he may follow his usual pattern of returning to his human form during sleep is a likely one.”

Hermione couldn’t hide her worry. Although she had been the one to posit the theory that sleep would continue to impel Harry’s return to human form, she had hoped it wouldn’t be necessary to test the idea. There was nothing for it now, though, but to wait until Harry slept. There were other things to discuss at the moment. “Did you find out anything that could be helpful?”

“Yes. I feel that I can say with a relative amount of certainty that Harry is not an Animagus.”

“Why not?” Ron asked. “And why with only relative certainty?”

“To begin with, if this was strictly an Animagus Transformation, he would probably be an adult cat rather than a kitten. At the very least, he’d be a young cat, not barely more than a baby. Additionally, the animal form of every known Animagi has been the same as their Patronus.” The Headmistress continued to pet the kitten, looking thoughtfully at him before continuing. “I can only speak with relative certainty, Mr. Weasley, because – apart from all that I’ve just said – the usual rules have never seemed to apply to Harry Potter.”

“So, you’re saying that – despite all the valid reasons he may not be an Animagus – there’s a possibility that he could be?” Hermione asked.

The Headmistress seemed to consider how to best answer the question. “It may be that Harry had some latent ability to become an Animagus. Many witches and wizards do. Perhaps the magic that was cast upon him called forth that ability in some way.”

“But Harry’s Patronus is a stag, same as his dad’s was,” Ron said. 

“Yes, but that in itself has always struck me as odd. If Harry’s father had lived, would Harry’s Patronus have manifested itself in some other form? But that is a discussion for another time. My point is that the spell or curse or whatever the woman cast upon Harry may have used some untapped ability within him to cause him to change into the form that _she_ chose. That form wouldn’t have had to be dependent on his Patronus or potential Animagus form.”

Hermione sat forward in her chair. “Are you saying that whatever she cast is akin to a Cross-Species Switch?”

Ron didn’t wait for the Headmistress to answer. “Doesn’t there have to be some similarity between the two forms in a Cross-Species Switch? How is Harry like a kitten?”

“If you’ll recall the words of the old woman, she compared his rage – his bluster – to the mewing of a kitten.” Draco had been watching the kitten from his kneeling position on the floor. Now he rose and walked toward the sofa. As soon as he was seated, the kitten climbed into his lap. “Not an obvious similarity, but in a Cross-Species Switch it doesn’t have to be.”

“But the power to cast that, wandlessly, and in those few brief moments, would have to be tremendous.” Hermione could not help but be fascinated by the magic, despite the fact that it had turned her friend into a kitten.

“True,” Headmistress McGonagall said, “but that doesn’t mean this woman couldn’t have done it.”

The kitten was listening to the conversation. Really, he was. But he was finally in Draco’s arms, being cuddled by his favorite person. The discussion was just not as interesting by comparison. _Hmmmm. Draco…_. He pushed himself up to nuzzle into the gloriously scented skin of the wizard’s neck.

Draco chuckled softly and tried not to shiver too obviously as the kitten’s soft fur tickled his neck. “Harry! I appreciate the affection, but that really tickles.” 

The Headmistress turned to the man and kitten sitting beside her on the couch. “Pof is just doing what kittens do. You’re his favorite person, after all.”

“Pof?” Draco asked in surprise. “Why did you call him Pof?”

“He told me that was his name – and that you said it was for his ‘Paws of Fury.’” She let a question color her tone as she said the last bit. 

Draco’s smile was brilliant as he lifted the kitten to place a kiss on his nose. “Liked that, did you? Very well. Pof.” Draco placed another kiss on his furry head. 

_“Hmmm. I love your kisses.”_ Pof was purring loudly and nudging his nose against Draco’s cheek.

“I wish I could understand what you’re saying,” Draco told the kitten. “It would make things much easier.”

The Headmistress made a sound of surprise and in apology said, “So sorry. I didn’t think about that.” Then she pointed her wand at Draco and with a quick motion said, “ _Intellectum Cattus Lingua_.”

Draco felt the magic wash over him. He knew from the words of the spell what it should allow him to do. Lifting the kitten to look into his eyes, he asked, “Would you like me to play with your paws?”

 _“Yes! Please, Draco??”_ Pof wiggled with excitement as the wizard laughed aloud in delight at being able to comprehend the meaning of the meows.

Draco sat the kitten in his lap and proceeded to touch, tease, and tickle the furry little paws. Pof purred loudly and batted at Draco’s fingers. The two seemed lost in their own little game, unaware of their rapt audience.

Hermione was the one to return attention to their discussion. “So, Harry’s not an Animagus, necessarily. But he can’t be completely an animal, can he, if he’s able to still perform magic?”

“Correct. We must also consider the fact that he can remember things, people, feelings from his human existence. That’s similar to an Animagus. He knows all of you, even though he responds to you as a kitten would. And he can understand what is being said to him. This can’t be a complete animal Transformation or he wouldn’t be able to do any of that.” Professor McGonagall quirked a small smile as she watched the black kitten playing contentedly. “As I mentioned before – the usual rules do not seem to apply.”

“Always the rule-breaker, you.” Draco teased the kitten.

 _“I don’t do it on purpose. Usually.”_ Pof blinked his big green eyes innocently.

Draco’s nonverbal response of a smirk accompanied by a raised eyebrow said quite clearly that he wasn’t buying that.

Watching Pof play with his ‘favorite person,’ Ron asked a question of Professor McGonagall. “You said before that Hogwart’s magic would probably help Harry Transform into the kitten. Why didn’t it help him turn back?” 

The Headmistress looked a little reluctant to speculate, but answered, “There may be complications. Pof seemed unsure if he wanted to return to his human form.”

Ron and Hermione both looked alarmed at that. “Why wouldn’t he?” Ron asked. Draco, though still playing with the kitten, turned his attention to the discussion.

“He’s very tired of fighting this evil. He finds comfort in being a kitten.”

Draco asked, “So you’re saying that he chose to remain a kitten?”

Professor McGonagall gave a small shake of her head. “He told me that he thought about all the things he would miss if he didn’t return to being Harry. I believe that, finally, he wanted to change back. Still, that initial doubt might have influenced the attempt. Or-” she again looked speculatively at Pof, “perhaps the school’s magic recognized that he was in need of the peace he finds in being a kitten. At least for a little while longer.”

Pof felt all eyes upon him and turned to look at each of his friends. _“Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”_

Draco’s expression seemed to convey relief, but Ron and Hermione were still unable to understand the kitten. “What did he say?” Ron asked.

“He said that we shouldn’t worry. He’ll be back.” To the Headmistress Draco said, “Perhaps you could review that spell with me in case I need to recast it on myself. I can practice on Ron and Hermione.”

“That’s a good idea,” Hermione said. “Especially if he encounters that evil again while in kitten form.”

Professor McGonagall took Draco through the wand movements. When he felt confident enough, he cast the spell on Harry’s friends. “Say hello to your friends, Pof. Let’s see if they can understand you.”

 _“Hi, Ron. Hi, Mione.”_ Pof was walking along the edge of the sofa, feeling too far away from everyone. _“Pick me up, Draco.”_

“Demanding little bugger, isn’t he?” Ron asked as he moved closer to the couch. “Why do they call you ‘Pof,’ Harry?”

The kitten sat up on his haunches and waved his paws at the approaching redhead. _“Beware my Paws of Fury!”_ He almost managed to sound a little fierce before toppling over. He definitely looked somewhat offended at Ron’s ensuing laughter.

Draco came to his rescue, picking up the kitten and soothing his ruffled ego along with his fur. “Don’t laugh, Ron. He’s still quite the hero – even when small and fuzzy.”

Ron just laughed harder at that and was not the least bit intimidated when Pof flattened his ears and gave a small hiss. “I’m sorry, Harry – I mean, Pof. You’re just so damned cute.”

 _“I knew I should have gone with the Stinging Hex.”_ Pof turned his face into Draco’s chest and proceeded to sulk. He missed Ron’s raised eyebrows and look of mild alarm.

“Professor, is there anything else we should be aware of?” Hermione asked.

“I believe you’ve had a productive visit here. There’s really nothing more I can tell you regarding Harry’s kitten form. What will you do next?”

Ron moved to stand by Hermione as he said, “Well, I need to see if I can match the description of the old woman to anyone we might have record of. That may take a while.” 

“Most immediately, I need to collect the twins from the Burrow,” Hermione said. “They love spending time with Molly and Arthur, but they’re used to the weekend routine at our house. And I can always do some research from home. I think I’ll focus on the magic the old woman used – especially since Draco is going to pursue his lead on what may be happening at Grimmauld Place.” 

“I guess it’s time for us to go to the Manor, Pof.” Draco settled the kitten into his arms and turned to the Headmistress. “You’ve been a great help, Headmistress. Thank you.” He accepted her acknowledging nod with one of his own. “Now, may we be allowed to use your Floo? I believe that may be the best way to travel with Pof.”

“Of course,” she said and moved with them to the Floo. She reached out a hand to scratch behind the kitten’s ears. “Good-bye, little one.”

 _“Goodbye, Minnie. Thank you.”_ Pof turned his head into her hand. Then he looked back at Ron and Hermione. _“Bye! Thank you… friends.”_

Draco returned the smiles of the other three as Pof snuggled into his arms. Freeing a hand to scoop up some Floo powder, he threw it into the fireplace and, with a hint of pride, called out “Malfoy Manor!” Clutching the kitten firmly to him, he moved confidently into the fireplace.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Small puffs of soot swirled around them as they emerged from the Floo. The five tiny all-in-a-row sneezes were incredibly cute. Draco rolled his eyes at the fact that he was smiling over the kitten’s sneezing fit – and continued to smile nonetheless. 

“Let’s take a moment to make ourselves presentable.” Draco sat the kitten down upon a small, decorative, but not very comfortable chair. The Floo chamber at Malfoy Manor was located just off the large entrance hall, and Draco was certain that Harry had never seen it. Ron had usually accompanied Hermione to the Manor on her visits back at the beginning of their unexpected friendship. Harry had joined them only rarely, and they had never come by Floo – although they had been invited to do so. Hermione and her friends had always Apparated to the gates and walked up the drive to the Manor. 

The kitten watched Draco for a moment as he straightened his robes in front of an ornate, full-length mirror and, with a quick spell, Vanished the soot that had dared to smudge his garments. When he was satisfied with his appearance, he turned to Pof and raised his wand. _“What?”_ the kitten exclaimed, taking a few steps back. Draco’s Cleansing Charm still managed to find him.

“Just freshening your appearance before we see my parents,” Draco explained. “It’s expected.”

 _“I have black fur,”_ Pof said with just a hint of petulance. _“Soot doesn’t show.”_

“Until someone touches you and the soot transfers to them.”

 _“Oh.”_ The kitten cocked his head and regarded his companion. _“They won’t touch me, will they?”_

“You won’t have to worry about Father. He doesn’t really do warm and fuzzy.” Draco seemed to scrutinize the kitten’s appearance for a moment. “Mother’s different altogether, though. She might not be able to resist you. Well, until we tell them who you are.”

 _“No! I don’t want them to know I’m a kitten. I mean - that I’m me.”_ Pof paced along the edge of the seat cushion until Draco bent to pick him up. _“Do we have to see them?”_

“Of course we do, Pof.” Draco held the kitten close against him with one hand while the other calmed the creature with soothing strokes through his fur. “The Floo chime will have alerted them to my arrival, so we can’t just slip in unnoticed.”

Snuggled against Draco’s warmth and lost in his scent, the kitten had difficulty holding on to his concern. _“Your mum’s not so bad…”_

Draco huffed a soft laugh, quirking a half-grin. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to know you think so.” He brought the kitten up to his face to make sure his question was heard. “Why don’t you want me to tell them who you are?”

Pof blinked his big green eyes. _“They’re bigger than me.”_

“I’m bigger than you,” Draco said, mildly confused.

Pof seemed to regard Draco for a few moments. _“But you like me.”_

So , Harry – or Pof – was feeling vulnerable without his normal physical stature and Auror robes to shield him from possible threats. Draco understood. “Yes, I like you. And I won’t let anything happen to you - though you really have nothing to worry about. My parents are excruciatingly careful about their actions these days. They would never do anything to harm you and would likely go to any lengths to see to your protection.”

Pof sighed and batted a soft paw at Draco’s chin. _“I guess - if we have to… ”_ The big green eyes seemed to grow larger as Pof employed his kitten manipulation skills.

And they worked. “Alright," Draco conceded. "I won’t tell them – unless they seem to suspect something and ask me directly. I don’t want to lie to them about it. In any case, it will only mean delaying the inevitable. They’ll quickly figure things out when you – Harry you – suddenly appear after naptime.” He drew the kitten close again, brushing his cheek across the top of the furry head. “I wish we had discussed this sooner. It really would-”

“Draco?” Narcissa Malfoy swept gracefully into the small chamber. “The chime sounded ages ago.” She had moved to embrace him but stopped as she noticed the small black kitten in his arms. “Oh! How adorable! Where did you find this sweet little thing?” 

Pof watched as the matriarch of the Malfoy family stretched a pale hand toward him. He was spared the contact when Draco took a step back. “Mother,” he said, somewhat apologetically, “he’s a bit wary of people. Be careful.”

Narcissa was undeterred. “Oh, poor thing,” she crooned. “Don’t be afraid.” The slim, delicate hand moved slowly toward the kitten once more.

Pof was trying to be calm. He knew that Draco would protect him. Oddly, he wasn’t necessarily feeling frightened of Narcissa – just a bit cautious. And he knew that Draco would expect him to be on his best behavior. _“It’s okay.”_

Draco was surprised, but relieved, when the kitten allowed his mother to pet him. Pof trembled slightly, but only briefly, as she gently stroked her hand along his small body. She continued to whisper little nonsense words that seemed to calm the kitten further. Draco panicked a bit, though, as his mother bent to place a kiss on top of the furry head – but in the next moment heard the kitten begin to purr. 

“I think he likes me,” Narcissa said with some delight. Then she stood on her toes to place a kiss on her son’s cheek. “I thought we might not see you this weekend after all. Though, I should have known, since there’d been no owl.” She made certain he caught her pointed look before turning to lead him out of the room.

Draco managed not to roll his eyes at his mother’s subtle remonstrance for not sending an owl to let them know when to expect him. He always sent an owl if he _wasn’t_ going to spend the weekend there and, if he was, he usually arrived on Saturday morning in time for breakfast. His mother insisted that sending an owl – if there was to be a variation of that plan – was only good manners. Draco held to the belief that, since the Manor was still his home (at least part time) he shouldn’t have to owl. He had eventually put it down to one of those ‘mother’ things and worried about it far less than she did. 

Hoping to distract her, he asked, “What’s for lunch?”

 _“Lunch?”_ The kitten’s ears – literally – perked up.

“Simple fare – I was expecting to dine alone. Your father has business appointments and probably will not return until this afternoon.” 

They crossed the brightly lit entrance hall toward the drawing room. The large doors were open, and Pof could see into the room before they entered it. The walls were no longer purple as they had been in darker times, and the room exuded a cheery warmth. It was as if the manor had been redecorated to reflect an apparent new Malfoy motto: "Lighten up.”

Narcissa sat gracefully upon the couch and motioned for Draco to join her. He did so, settling the kitten upon his lap. She immediately reached to pet the furry beast, who seemed to welcome her touch this time with no reservations.

“Tell me of your week, then. Anything interesting?” Narcissa began her mother questions as she continued to lavish attention upon the small creature in her son’s lap.

Draco settled into his expected role, preparing to answer all his mother’s queries as sons know they must do eventually. “Well, most of the week was dull routine, but -”

“Oh, look at those big, beautiful eyes! Did I ever tell you that I had a black kitten when I was a child?” Narcissa, much to Draco’s amazement, was now allowing Pof to bat at the edges of the sleeve of her robe as she dangled the flowing material above him. “Draco? Please continue, darling.”

 _Hmmm..._ The kitten rolled onto his back and continued to make pretend slashing motions at the expensive fabric, but careful to keep his claws retracted. And purring happily all the while, of course.

Continue… oh, right. “Well, as I was saying, fairly routine. Friday was a little more -”

“Precious little thing! Such soft fur! What did you say his name was, Draco?” Narcissa’s attention was obviously kitten-focused. Apparently unable to resist any longer, she reached over and scooped the kitten up to cradle him in her arms. 

“Mother, no!”

 _“Draco!”_ Pof had been enjoying the nearness of his Draco and, surprisingly, the affection of Narcissa. He wasn’t quite certain that he wanted to be held by her, however. Until she started a gentle tickling of his tummy. _“Hmmmm… happy.”_

Draco watched in disbelief as the kitten he knew to be Harry Potter lolled about allowing Narcissa Malfoy to give him tummy rubs. Casting his gaze toward the ceiling in exasperation, he sat back to fold his arms across his chest as he said, “His name is Pof. But I’m thinking of changing it to Shameless.”

“Puff? Well, isn’t that just adorable. Yes, he’s just like a little powder puff. Yes he is! Yes he is!” Narcissa was rubbing Pof’s tummy a little more vigorously now and the kitten was purring loudly.

This could not continue! His mother would be furious to know that she had been cooing over Harry Potter, kitten form or no. “No – Mother! Not Puff! It’s Pof – but not really. Pof, I have to tell-”

“I heard that little tummy growl. Yes I did! We must let the house-elves know we have an additional guest. Yes, Puff, we must!” In a completely different tone than the one she was using with the kitten, Narcissa called out “Mimsey!”

The house-elf appeared, immediately bowing low before the mistress of the house. As she straightened again, the elf noticed the kitten and her ears twitched in surprise. The kitten was immediately intrigued and twitched his own ears in response. 

“As you can see, Mimsey, my son has invited a friend to visit.” She lifted the kitten, holding him out toward the elf. “See that the little darling is fed something delicious while we enjoy our midday meal.”

 _“Draco!”_ The kitten was now squirming so that he fell out of Narcissa’s grasp to the carpeted floor. Draco bent quickly and grabbed up the kitten before the house-elf could do so and Apparate away with him. 

Mimsey evidently believed she had displeased him in some way. “The kitten shall be fed salmon, just as before. Master Draco said that was well done.” 

_“Mmm! Salmon!”_

“Yes, yes, Mimsey, that will be perfect. I’ll take the kitten to my room to eat. Just meet us there.” Draco sped through his little speech and turned toward the door to make a quick exit. 

“Draco!”

He knew that tone. His mother would never be so distracted by fluff that she would miss such obvious signs of subterfuge. He’d reached too quickly for the kitten, seemed too eager to take him out of the room. Damn! They were screwed. 

He faced her, holding the kitten against him. Pof, unaware that the jig was likely up, obliviously began to nuzzle his head against the bottom of Draco’s chin. His mother was looking speculatively at the pair and continued to do so while she once again addressed the house-elf.

“Mimsey, when did you serve salmon to Draco’s little friend?” Narcissa’s voice was calm but Draco was not deceived. 

“Yesterday, Mistress.” Mimsey, as any good house-elf, did not disappoint in providing more than just the basic information. “Salmon the feline will enjoy now, but the wizard he is will not regret later.”

Victory sparkling dangerously in her eyes, Narcissa dismissed the elf. “Very well, Mimsey. We’ll call for the salmon when we’re ready.”

For long moments after the house-elf disappeared, Draco and his mother exchanged a steady gaze. His was carefully innocent. Hers was the kind that said, clearly, she could wait him out indefinitely. 

_“Where’s my salmon?”_ The kitten interrupted his nuzzling to look about, finally noticing the silent exchange between mother and son. _“Uh-oh…”_

“Who is your friend, Draco?” Narcissa asked in that same dangerously calm voice. “Who have I been… fawning over?” The tone finally sharpened to leave no doubt as to her displeasure.

Draco took a deep breath, turning to the kitten before answering his mother. “You know I have to tell her, don’t you? Don’t worry, though. Everything will be okay.”

Calmed by Draco’s quiet assurances, the kitten looked once more at Narcissa. His soft paw lifted to press against Draco’s lips. Still, his answer gave permission. _“I trust you, Draco.”_

When he once again met his mother’s eyes, Draco was surprised by the expression he now saw there. Still quite serious, but also obviously intrigued. Taking a deep breath, he began his explanation with an apology. “I’m sorry, Mother. We had hoped to keep somewhat to ourselves until he changed back.” Giving a small smile he hoped she would share he added, “I warned him you wouldn’t be able to resist him.”

“Draco. Who is he?” Narcissa’s question was insistent, but not harsh.

Instead of naming his companion, Draco chose to first explain the situation, hoping his mother would be patient with him. “He was cursed – or something – by an old woman. We’ve got an Auror trying to find her. She used some type of unusual magic to cause him to transform into a kitten when he becomes angry.” Draco half-smiled at the look of surprise on his mother’s face. “I know – very odd. So far he’s been able to return to his human form when he falls asleep. You would have ‘met’ him then anyway. We came to talk to you and Father about a different curse he seems to be suffering under.”

Narcissa looked with open curiosity at the unfortunate creature huddled in her son’s arms. Draco was relieved to see concern there as well. 

“We’ve been to Hogwarts to see Headmistress McGonagall. She told us that he’s not an Animagus, but he is very much a kitten. He still has a sense of the person he is, too. He can understand us, knows us. But – the purring, the response to affection, the kitten behavior – that’s genuine.” Draco knew he had to assure his mother that the kitten/wizard hadn’t been trying to make her look foolish.

“Very well, Draco. You’ve won my sympathy for your friend’s plight. Now, tell me who he is.”

Glancing once more at the kitten, he bit his lip a moment, then finally said, “Harry Potter.”

***=^;^=***

Draco hadn’t really expected this reaction to his news. His mother, despite her delicate appearance, was a strong woman. He’d watched her navigate the treacherous waters of society for years, then negotiate survival for her family amidst daily terror during the war. He’d never seen her faint. Okay, so she hadn’t actually fainted this time either. But she’d probably have collapsed if she hadn’t already been sitting down and her expressive and receptive language functions had been on shut-down for almost a full three minutes.

He sat beside her on the couch, holding her hand, talking in quiet reassuring tones. Draco was torn between being glad that his father wasn’t home to witness this and wishing his father was here to help bring his mother round. The kitten was sitting between them on the couch and would, periodically, lay a paw on Narcissa’s leg. Draco wasn’t really sure if that was helping or not.

Finally, Narcissa’s blue eyes seemed to regain more focus, and color returned to her cheeks. She now watched the kitten with growing interest and less trepidation. Pof returned her scrutiny, head cocked to the side, green eyes blinking slowly, patiently. 

And then the decorative clock on the small table at the end of the couch chimed and swirling pieces of crystal and shiny metal snatched every ounce of his attention. Kitten instincts overrode the wizard’s perception of the need to give Narcissa time to adjust; Shiny beat out sensitivity. Pof hopped over Narcissa’s lap and scampered to the end of the couch. The arm was low and sloped toward the table. It was just so convenient. Little claws came out to embed in the expensive upholstery as the kitten prepared to launch himself at the beguiling object.

Draco caught him mid-leap. “No, Pof!” 

Pof struggled against the strong, confining hands, enormous eyes still tracking the movement of the clock chiming the noon hour. Little paws reached out for the object, now beyond his grasp. _“But - but… it’s sparkly!”_

Draco turned the kitten away from the view of the clock and brought the furry face up to his. “Pof! I think my mother may be willing to forgive you for the tummy rubs. She’s generally not so forgiving of damage to priceless family heirlooms.”

The kitten slumped in defeat, giving up the last of his efforts to return to the clock. He huffed and turned his face away from the shiny object of his desire. And Draco. The pouting had begun.

As the last delicate chime faded, another soft sound could be heard. Draco turned toward the couch to see his mother, fisted hand against her mouth, attempting to restrain… giggles? Evidently the look on his face was enough to send her over the edge and she burst out laughing in a way Draco hadn’t heard in a very long time.

The kitten was curious enough about the sound to put aside his pout. He blinked at Narcissa, then turned to look up at Draco. He watched the slow smile spread across his favorite person's beautiful face. He began to purr happily and moved to snuggle into Draco’s calming scent.

A house-elf appeared, bowing as Mimsey had done. This one seemed reluctant to say anything and appeared to be waiting for his mistress to address him. She managed to compose herself enough to do so. “Yes, Hinny. We are aware that lunch is awaiting us in the dining room. Oh – please have Mimsey bring the kitten’s meal there as well.” 

Draco, still smiling, watched as his mother swept by and followed her from the room. Whispering to the kitten he said, “Well, dining with the family. I think she likes you.”

***=^;^=***

The rain had abated for the day so, after lunch, Draco and Pof decided to take in some fresh air. Though the grounds were still quite wet, they thought they could stay relatively dry if they kept to the paths. That was the plan anyway. Leaves, petals, windblown blades of grass all conspired to tempt the kitten into the sodden areas of the garden. Draco found himself chasing Pof about the grounds.

Draco had thought that the activity might move the kitten into nap mode, but that didn’t happen. Though they occasionally stopped to relax, Pof was much more interested in snuggling than sleeping. Remembering McGonagall’s statement about Harry’s reluctance to return to his human form, Draco began to wonder if the kitten was purposely avoiding sleep to forestall the transformation.

By late afternoon the rain had returned. Though it was a light fall compared to the torrents they had been experiencing, it was still enough to drive them back into the house. Draco had insisted on taking Pof to his room while he changed into dry clothes. The kitten had been placed upon the bed in what Draco hoped was a subtle attempt to encourage him to go to sleep. Pof had again been distracted from that plan, this time by the down-filled bedcover that puffed up around him. The black kitten hopped and pounced about on the covers, only stopping when Draco came to stretch out across the bed.

“You’ve had a busy day for a kitten, Pof. I’m surprised you haven’t taken a nap.” Draco reached across to touch and tease furry kitten paws. 

Pof fell to his side, stretched out in a way that mirrored Draco. He purred happily as his paws were tickled and played with. He didn’t know why that seemed to be one of his favorite things but supposed it was just a kitten thing.

Draco was surprised when Pof didn’t say anything in return. They had both enjoyed the benefits of the spell allowing Draco to understand kittenspeak. The kitten took full advantage of the fact that all his desires could be immediately understood. In the way of a small child, he unhesitatingly demanded to be picked up, played with, snuggled, chased after. 

Draco enjoyed the calmer moments when they actually talked. Of course it wasn’t the same as conversing with Harry the wizard. Pof’s speech patterns were more simplistic and his outlook, again, tended to the closer to that of a small child. There were moments, though, when Draco knew he was really talking to Harry. He had been adamant with Hermione that the kitten was still Harry, and he knew that was true. 

“Harry?” Draco wondered, if he addressed the wizard, would the answer be less kittenish. “What are you thinking?”

 _“The bed is soft. I like it.”_ The kitten sat up and then hopped over so that he was closer to Draco’s face. He touched his nose to Draco’s before asking, _“Will we sleep here tonight?”_

“Well, I suppose that depends on you. I had thought you might take a nap sometime today. If you had, and transformed back to the human you, we might have had the conversation with my parents already. Then we could have stayed here, if that’s what you wanted, or we could have returned to the loft.”

The kitten’s eyes widened, and he gave a little mew of distress. _“Draco! I don’t have a home anymore!”_ So much had transpired and going in and out of kitten form had made it somewhat difficult to process everything. The kitten had suddenly remembered that, while he was human, he had told someone – McGonagall? – that he lived at Grimmauld Place – or _had_ lived there. Pof trembled as he remembered the evil in the house. No, he could not go back there.

Draco stroked the dark fur in an effort to calm the kitten. “Harry, we might be able to eradicate whatever has… taken over Grimmauld Place.” Sitting up he pulled the still trembling kitten to him and held him close. He rested his chin against the top of the furry head. “But if we can’t, you can always stay with me.”

Pof snuggled closer to Draco, rubbing his face against the neck that seemed to generate that glorious scent. Draco was his protector. And Pof knew that Draco did like him as a wizard, too. _“Even when I’m a wizard? Can I stay with you then, too?”_

“For as long as you want, Harry.” Draco whispered against the soft fur.

A soft pop of house-elf Apparition drew their attention to the side of the bed where a small creature bowed to Draco. “The mistress is saying the master is returning. She asks the young master and friend to come to the drawing room.”

“You may tell her that we’re on our way.” Draco stood, kitten in his arms and took one last look at his appearance in the large mirror. After unnecessarily smoothing his robes, he looked at the kitten, resting against him, in the reflection. “Well, let’s go see what Father thinks of my new fur fashion accessory, shall we?”

_“What new fur fashion accessory?”_

***=^;^=***

When they entered the drawing room, Draco was surprised to see only Narcissa there. “I thought Father was home.” He and Pof settled beside her on the sofa.

“Yes. Finishing up a few things in his study at the moment.” Again her attention seemed unevenly divided between the conversation with her son and the kitten in his lap. 

From a basket on the floor that Draco had never noticed before, Narcissa retrieved a ball of yarn. Something about the appearance of the yarn, or perhaps the perfect sphere of the ball itself, indicated to Draco that it was a magical object.

“Look what I have for you, Puff.” Narcissa held the ball of yarn toward the kitten, twisting it in a way that made the yarn appear to sparkle. The kitten was immediately entranced. When she tossed onto the floor, he simply had no choice but to follow it.

Draco watched as Pof batted and chased the ball of yarn. It didn’t go far. Narcissa held the end of the yarn and when she twisted it around her finger, the ball came back to her. So did the kitten. Pof waited anxiously at her feet, eyes glued to the magical ball of yarn. 

Narcissa didn’t tease him long before tossing the ball out onto the carpeted floor. “There you go, Puff!” She sighed happily as she watched the kitten play. “He really is adorable, isn’t he, Draco?”

“I have to agree,” he said as he watched the kitten chase and attack the ball. Turning to his mother he said, “You do know that his name is Pof, not Puff, right?”

“Hmm?” Narcissa was less than half attentive to anything not small, black, and furry. Once more she twisted a finger and the ball retracted, the kitten chasing it all the way.

Again the ball was flung across the carpet, this time bouncing a little farther away. The kitten launched himself after it and hit with the momentum just needed to knock the ball of yarn out into the entrance hall. Pof immediately scampered after it.

The floor of the entrance hall was a polished stone and the ball of yarn rolled easily across it. Pof, eye on his target, hunkered down on his front paws, furry bottom twitching as he prepared to attack. Before the wily ball could escape, the kitten pounced. Success! He latched onto the yarn with teeth and claws, curling himself around the ball. He lay, happily chewing on the yarn, spinning around on the stone floor. 

And then suddenly he was lifted into the air, the ball of yarn falling from his grasp. He squirmed against the invisible force that seemed to be holding him by the scruff of his neck. _“OUCH!”_ Whoever claimed that wasn’t uncomfortable had obviously never been lifted that way. 

His struggling caused Pof to twist in the air as he rose and, finally, his body turned so that he could see Lucius Malfoy. The imperious wizard, glaring down his extended wand arm, appeared highly offended at finding the little kitten in his hall.

Draco, having heard the kitten’s yelp, rushed out into the hall to see Pof floating in the air, lifted by the Levitation Spell that his father had cast. The kitten was flailing about and squeaking out little mews of _“Hey! HEY!”_

“What is this?” Lucius Malfoy, wand still drawn, stood several feet away as if confronting a dangerous foe.

“A bit of an overreaction?” Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Draco simultaneously drew his wand to cast _Finite_ and managed to grab the kitten before he fell. 

“It’s a kitten, darling,” Narcissa said as she joined them. She walked to her husband, laid a gentle hand on his arm as a subtle encouragement for him to lower it and whispered, “And he’s unarmed.”

“Yes, I can see that it’s a kitten. What is it doing here?” Lucius had lowered his wand but was still eyeing the tiny animal with suspicion. 

“He’s mine, Father.” Draco tried to make his voice light. “Meet Pof.”

“You have a cat? Why do you have a cat?” Turning to Narcissa he asked, “Why did you allow him get a cat?”

“Really, Lucius,” she said, turning to lead the group back into the drawing room. “Your son is an adult. He does not need our permission if he wants to have a pet.” 

Draco followed immediately, stroking the kitten and whispering words to soothe the feline’s injured ego. Lucius followed with obvious reluctance, still maintaining his distance. 

“If he wants to have one here then, yes, he does.” Lucius saw that both his wife and son were regarding him in obvious irritation, not the least bit intimidated by his autocratic posturing. He exhaled deeply, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “You could have left it at that Muggle abode of yours.”

“No, I couldn’t. Pof is very special, and you don’t just leave a young animal on its own.” Draco was still holding the kitten close, trying to coax him out of his pout by playing with the furry paws. 

“Pof? Is that its name?” Lucius said, sniffing in disdain. “How… common. Surely – if you insist on having it here – you could think of a better name? Something more appropriate to a pureblood household?”

“I like his name. And he likes his name, don’t you, Pof?” Draco touched a finger to the kitten’s nose.

 _“Yes!”_ The kitten waved a defiant paw in Lucius’ direction.

Narcissa, in a show of support, moved to take the kitten from Draco, holding him close against her and rubbing her cheek across the soft fur. “Don’t listen to him, Puff. He’s just being grumpy.”

“Narcissa! Don’t!” Lucius took a hurried step forward to stop his wife from contaminating herself with the dreaded cat dander, then quickly retreated when he saw that she was moving toward him. “No! Stay back! Stay -” and then Lucius Malfoy contorted his face into the most amazingly grotesque mask, waved his hands about in a manner reminiscent of a woman in a fit of the vapors – and sneezed.

Narcissa stopped and just stared at her husband, her head cocked at the precise angle as that of the kitten – who was also gazing in wonder at the man. “Lucius? Do you suffer from a physical aversion to cats?” Both she and the kitten blinked innocently.

Lucius looked as though he was struggling with something, although whether it was another sneeze or the reluctance to admit to any type of weakness was difficult to say. “Yes!” he finally admitted. “Cats make me sneeze. And my eyes – they swell.” He turned to Draco to ask, in a rather pathetic tone, “Are they swelling?” 

Trying very hard not to grin, Draco shook his head and answered, “No, Father.” Moving to take the kitten from Narcissa, he added, “Perhaps it would be best if Pof and I retire to my room for the evening. We can just have our supper there.”

“Oh!” Narcissa was obviously disappointed to lose the kitten’s company, knowing there was a chance that he would be gone by morning. She scratched behind his ears one last time, earning a purr. “Good evening then, Puff. I’m very happy to have met you.” She winked at Draco before turning to attend to her husband who was sniffling pitifully at the other side of the room.

Draco carried Pof out of the drawing room and started up a grand staircase. When he was certain they would not be overheard he whispered, “Just think: had the Order of the Phoenix known that Lucius Malfoy was allergic to cats, they could have taken out Voldemort’s right hand man early in the game simply by sending in McGonagall.” 

_“Ha! I can make Lucius sneeze! He looked funny!”_ The kitten seemed extremely pleased with himself.

“Yes, you’re very fierce. If your paws of fury fail, you can always bring out the dander.” 

The kitten seemed to consider this for a moment. _“Yeah. Still not as fun as a Stinging Hex, though.”_

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Once again Harry awoke surrounded by warmth, comfort, and that most exquisite scent. The bed was unbelievably soft, and he couldn’t resist snuggling down into the covers. The bedclothes enveloped him, and he felt almost as if he was being hugged by the bed. He breathed in Draco’s scent and wondered again how he had never noticed it in all their years of acquaintance. Underlying it was the fragrance of fresh linens and… something floral? It was too faint to tell what, precisely, but Harry knew it came from live flowers, not some artificial perfume.

Harry smiled because, even with his eyes still closed, he could tell that he was, once again, clothed in the cozy kitten pajamas that Draco had created for him. Draco must have helped him change at some point during the night after sleep had returned him to his wizard form. Harry didn’t remember that happening. He seemed to sleep more deeply when he was a kitten. After spending many sleepless nights over the last few years, Harry welcomed the deep restful slumber.

Rain still fell outside, but it was either very light or difficult to hear through the thick, ancient walls of the manor. And – there – the soft shuffling that Harry was certain he recognized as Draco going through the movements of his Tai Chi. That image finally prompted Harry to open his eyes.

Across the room, facing away from Harry and toward the windows where light shown in to cast a glow about him, Draco moved with perfect grace. He had claimed that it helped him to be centered, calm. Harry felt a sense of peace just watching Draco execute the movements that were at once flowing and precise. He moved to sit up in the bed as he continued to watch Draco complete his ritual.

Finishing his form, Draco stood still and quiet for a moment. A soft smile curled his mouth and, despite the calm he felt, a tingle of excitement seemed to be zipping through him. He supposed it was sparked from spending another night holding Harry. 

They had retired to Draco’s room very early the previous evening. The kitten had provoked an allergic reaction in Lucius, and they decided to give him some space while Harry was still furry. All in all, it had been a relaxing and enjoyable day at the manor, and the evening continued in that vein. They watched the rain out the window, snuggled, talked a bit, had a light supper, and went to bed fairly early. Finally the kitten had begun to give up his battle to hold onto consciousness. 

Draco had stayed awake long after the kitten had fallen asleep. The day had not been as tiring for him as it had for the small animal. He was also hoping to watch Harry’s return, but he didn’t manage to stay awake for the transformation. He had drifted off with a tiny black kitten snuggled against him. In the early hours of the morning, he had woken to find a fully-dressed Harry Potter asleep on top of the covers. Unable to rouse Harry from his deep sleep, he had transformed Harry’s clothes into the soft kittens-chasing-bubbles pajamas and settled against him under the covers.

Now he turned to find that Harry had, once again, watched him while he practiced his Tai Chi. Harry was sitting up in bed with a beautiful, goofy smile on his face, and Draco decided that he could happily begin every morning just this way.

Harry felt his heartbeat quicken as Draco walked toward the bed. He was again wearing pajamas that looked like silk, this time a dark grey. Also different this time, and to Harry’s mind of much more consequence than the color, the top was unbuttoned and hung open. His eyes were drawn down the trail of creamy skin to the silky trousers riding low on Draco’s hips. 

Draco couldn’t help the smile just this side of a smirk that played across his lips. Harry was staring at him in obvious appreciation. He sat down on the bed, facing Harry and said, “Good morning, kitten.”

Green eyes widened in surprise, and Draco was pleased to note that the goofy grin became even goofier. Then a bit of a blush slipped up Harry’s face as he managed to return the greeting. “Good morning.”

They sat just smiling at each other for a few moments before Draco reached up to sweep dark wisps of hair from Harry’s face. His hand lingered on Harry’s cheek. “This is getting to be a habit. Falling asleep and waking up together.”

Harry nodded. “Nice one, I’d say.”

“I agree,” Draco whispered as he leaned closer to meet Harry for a kiss. It was a sweet promise. Nothing urgent or awkward. Just lips brushing, pressing softly, briefly. Then faces nuzzling, very like the kitten was fond of doing.

“I love watching you do your Tai Chi… thing,” Harry said as he pressed his forehead to Draco’s.

The smirk out in full force, Draco said, “You should see me do it naked.”

Harry sat back, eyes wide. Draco sat so close, touchable. Images flooded Harry’s mind, sending his heartbeat racing once more. Swallowing around a sudden dryness, he rasped, “May I?” 

Draco laughed, but his further reply was cut off by the pop of house-elf Apparation. Hinny bowed low and looked shyly up at the two men on the bed.

“Yes, Hinny?” Draco prompted when the house-elf remained silent.

Seeming somewhat startled, the house-elf bowed again and said, “Mistress is asking young Master to be coming to breakfast on time. And Mistress is asking will a guest be joining young Master?”

“Yes, Hinny. You may tell my mother to expect a guest this morning.” As the house-elf left, Draco rose from the bed. Sighing heavily he said, “Well, Harry, I’m afraid naked Tai Chi will have to wait. There’s only time to shower and dress before breakfast.” 

Harry watched, feeling simultaneously disheartened at the loss of naked anything and decidedly titillated as Draco slipped the silky grey pajama top off as he walked toward the ensuite. The play of muscles along Draco’s back and the material of the pajamas clinging to the well-defined arse quickly mesmerized him.

Draco turned at the door to the bathroom, his expression clearly conveying a sense of expectation. “Harry? There’s only time to shower and dress before breakfast.” Draco watched the other man’s face for any sign of understanding – and got nothing. A slight roll of his eyes and a reappearance of the smirk preceded his next comment. “There’s only time for a shower, Harry. One. Shower.” Green eyes once more flew wide open to indicate that, finally, the light had come on.

Harry leapt from the bed, shedding kitten pajamas as he ran after Draco. By the time he reached the bathroom, Draco had stripped out of his remaining clothing. He stood at the shower checking the water temperature, his back was to Harry. This of course left a very pleasant view of an arse that Harry was quite certain deserved to be worshipped. 

Finally satisfied with the temperature of the water, or possibly feeling that he’d given Harry ample opportunity to ogle his arse, Draco stepped into the shower. Not, however, before turning to give Harry a sinfully beautiful smile and doing a little blatant ogling of his own. 

Wasting no more time, Harry entered the shower to stand beside Draco. The two men laughed together, delighting in their plan, before moving to stand under the spray. Draco watched the water flow down Harry’s chest and could not stop himself from licking at the rivulets. His tongue traced along the sculpted muscles and, in some corner of his mind, Draco took a moment to thank whoever had made physical conditioning a requirement of the Auror program. 

Reaching into the shelf built into the wall of the shower, Draco removed a bottle and poured out a fragrant, creamy lotion into his hand. He then began to rub the substance onto Harry’s skin until it lathered into slick bubbles. Grinning, Harry did the same and soon they were smoothing the cleanser all over each other. Although – some areas seemed to be given more thorough attention than others.

As he rubbed his slippery body up against Draco’s (a move that earned a delicious moan), Harry asked, “So, how much time do we have?”

“Not enough,” Draco breathed. “Not nearly enough.” He slid his hands into Harry’s wet tangled hair and pulled him forward into a kiss. There was a fair bit of playful nibbling before the kiss settled into something deeper and more urgent.

The kiss continued until the need for air could be put off no longer. Harry moved to nuzzle Draco’s neck. Draco tilted his head to expose more of his throat as Harry began to place wet, hot kisses there. Harry kissed his way around Draco’s neck as he moved to stand behind him. With only a slight difference in their heights, Harry was able to press himself against the lean muscled back and rest his chin on Draco’s shoulder. Draco relaxed back into the embrace, turning his head to demand a continuation of the kissing. 

As Harry slid his hands across Draco’s torso, the two mouths joined, wet and desperate. Draco shivered as Harry teased his nipples. Harry’s soft moan indicated that he appreciated that response. One hand remained high to continue that activity as the other slid slowly down Draco’s soapy, well-defined abdomen. That hand pressed firmly against Draco, burning a path that stole away his breath as it moved along his body. 

His head fell back on Harry’s shoulder as he reveled in the feel of the slightly callused hands against his skin. He’d seen Harry’s cock up close and personal in the private alcove at Hogwarts and again as they stood outside the shower. He’d sucked it and knew it to be thick, beautifully proportioned. Now he felt that hard cock pressed against his arse, settling into the cleft to begin a slow rocking. He heard Harry cry out in pleasure at the contact just before he bit down on Draco’s shoulder.

And then Harry’s hand, finally, brushed along his erection and Draco’s body bucked in response. The touch was light but anticipation had made his cock ache to a degree he knew he’d never felt before. He brought his hands up to brace himself against the tiled wall in front of him, using the leverage to press back against Harry. The teasing hand stroking lightly along his hard-on now closed to encircle it. Harry’s grip was just firm enough to begin to assuage the throbbing need. 

A rotation of Draco’s hips brought moans of appreciation from both of them as his arse cheeks stroked Harry’s hardness where it nestled between them. This movement benefited Draco as well as his cock now began to fuck the hand that stroked it. 

Firm arse cheeks sheathed his cock, and Harry hips flexed to meet them as Draco pushed back against him. The stimulation to his erection as he gripped Draco’s hard-on from behind him almost created the sensation that Harry was stoking his own cock. Maybe it was because he had been alone for so long and the idea that he was actually here with Draco was so surreal. Suddenly Harry realized he wanted something different and slipped around Draco’s body until they stood face to face. 

One hand slipped up into the blond hair as Harry brought their lips together once more. His tongue penetrated Draco’s mouth over and over as he pushed him back against the tiles. With his other hand, he brought their cocks together – crying out when the sensitive members met. The cry having broken the kiss, Harry moved back just enough to look down and take in the vision of his cock pressing and rubbing against Draco’s. A stuttering moan brought his attention back to his lover’s face. Draco’s head was thrown back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling rapidly as breath tore between lips parted as if poised for a kiss. It was the most beautifully erotic thing Harry had ever seen.

This was what he needed. To see Draco’s beautiful face. To watch that face as the passion and need moved across it. To look at the places their bodies met, moving together and to meld the sensations of sight and touch into something that burned and built toward an explosion of release that touched so many levels.

“Harry.” Draco’s voice, rough with arousal, pulled at him. He met the grey eyes, glazed with lust, and was certain they only reflected what Draco could see in his. Then Draco brought his hand up to clasp Harry’s so that they both stroked the hot, hard cocks that rubbed against each other in a searing friction.

The combined pressure of their entwined hands, the feel of Harry’s hardness moving, rubbing, pulling against his had Draco’s entire being electrified with pleasure. Then Harry licked at his neck, bit softly, then settled into a suckling kiss against the sensitive skin. Draco’s orgasm ripped through him in a full-body shudder that seemed to go on and on. Over his own cry he heard Harry’s shout.

Draco’s hot come had erupted over their hands and Harry was caught by the beauty of his lover in release. He’d never seen Draco look anything but controlled and this unguarded, vulnerable ecstasy sent an almost agonizing jolt of pleasure straight to his cock, bringing Harry to his own staggering orgasm. 

They stood, resting against one another; Draco still pressed against the tiles, Harry pressed against Draco. Breathing seemed to be the focus of their efforts for what seemed like several minutes. Harry’s forehead rested on Draco’s shoulder, and Draco thought about bringing his hand up to comb through the wet, dark strands of hair, but couldn’t gather the energy. 

Finally, Harry rolled his head to the side so that he could press his lips, albeit a little weakly, against Draco’s neck. “Merlin,” he breathed, “I really needed that.”

Draco’s exhausted laughter proved contagious, and soon they were both chuckling – amidst pressing light, quick kisses against still wet skin. Somehow they managed to finish the business of actually showering and headed back to the bedroom to dress.

Harry didn’t argue too stringently when Draco insisted on modifying some of his own clothes for Harry to wear. He still had the same clothes he’d worn to work on Friday morning and was really only too happy to have something fresh. Repeated Cleansing charms could only do so much. 

It struck Harry as very odd to realize that this had all begun only a couple of days ago. So much had happened in that time. He’d become a kitten, discovered that his house was contaminated by something evil that had managed to place a compulsion upon him, and discovered that his attraction to Draco Malfoy was definitely mutual. 

“Stop wool-gathering, Harry. We probably have no hope of making it to breakfast at the expected time, but we can still manage to get there without being too obviously late.” Draco stood, holding a set of robes for Harry to don once he’d finished doing up his trousers.

“I think you’ve got the length right on these, Draco, but they feel a bit snug.”

Draco smirked. He was just a bit taller than Harry, so that hadn’t required much of an alteration at all. He’d decided to leave them otherwise, knowing they’d be a little tight on Harry‘s more muscular frame, but anxious to see the effect. “But they look good. Really good.”

Harry shook his head in amused exasperation. “You’re not going to be able to notice the fit under the robes anyway. Give me some more room, please.” 

Draco sighed dramatically, but capitulated - more in the interest of saving time than anything else. “Very well.”

Finally dressed and ready to venture down stairs, the two moved to the door. Harry was surprised when Draco grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Just for a bit. It’s a long walk. Wouldn’t want you to get lost, kitten.” Draco was smirking again, enjoying the way Harry blushed and smiled at the use of the endearment.

“Should we just Apparate?” Harry asked.

“I’m not in that much of a hurry to get there,” Draco said as he pulled Harry out of the room.

And apparently Draco wasn’t in a hurry, because he seemed to stop every few moments to fuss over Harry’s appearance. Finally they stood just outside the dining room, and Draco turned once more to Harry and began to, unnecessarily, straighten his robes.

“Draco, Stop! This is about as good as I get, I’m afraid.” Harry had grabbed Draco’s hands to stop the fussing and still held them. “Why are we dressed so nice on the weekend anyway? Do you always do this?”

“Not always. Definitely not at my place. It’s just… it’s important to make a good first impression.” Draco seemed to be examining their joined hands.

Harry frowned, “Draco, I’ve met your parents – on several occasions.”

“I know! It’s just that… this is…” There was some intriguing lip biting going on now, but Harry tried not to let it distract him.

Harry had never seen Draco Malfoy at a loss for words and it was… cute. He realized he’d been depending on Draco’s confidence up to this point and now the other man seemed nervous. About Harry “meeting” his parents? Oh. Harry smiled.

A kind of joy seemed to bubble up inside of him, and he pulled Draco to him and into a very enthusiastic kiss. Draco didn’t need much convincing to return the kiss with equal enthusiasm. Harry quickly found himself pushed up against the wall and being snogged in a way that was sure to do serious damage to all the effort Draco had put into Harry’s appearance. He couldn’t seem to muster much concern about that and lost himself in Draco.

A not-so-subtle cough wrenched them instantly back to reality. Harry’s view was blocked by Draco’s body, but he didn’t need to see to know who had discovered them. The cold voice only confirmed what he already knew.

“Draco. Your mother and I are waiting. If you and your… friend… would -”

Draco had given Harry a small smile before disentangling himself and moving to the side. With Draco’s body no longer obstructing his view, Lucius Malfoy could quite clearly see Draco’s “friend.” The two young men stood side by side waiting for Lucius to – well, do something other than stand gaping at them.

Harry had to admit that Lucius Malfoy, totally aside from the whole Death Eater thing, had a flair for intimidation – if he chose to employ it. At the moment though, the man seemed to be Stupified. Although he could quite suddenly see the humor in this situation, Harry decided – in the interest of possible future interactions considering where his relationship with Draco seemed to be going – to opt for maturity. Hermione would be proud.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry stepped forward and offered his hand. “Nice to see you again.” 

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry stepped forward and offered his hand. “Nice to see you again.”

At Harry’s greeting, something seemed to kick in with Lucius – a kind of automatic manners thing that all pure-bloods seemed inherently to possess. “Mr. Potter.” He reached out and clasped Harry’s hand as if he hadn’t been staring in shock moments before. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry glanced briefly at Draco and caught a quick wink behind his father’s back. “I’m very happy to be here,” he added, having no difficulty in expressing that sentiment with sincerity.

“Good morning!” Narcissa swept in from the dining room to join them. She first placed a kiss on Draco’s cheek and, with only a moment of hesitation, did the same to Harry.

The two young men exchanged greetings with her, missing Lucius’ expression of surprise at his wife’s familiarity. In the next moment, he had schooled his expression and seemed to have regained some of his equilibrium. With a casual gesture, he motioned for the others to proceed into the dining room. 

They were a quiet group as the house-elves served. Harry found that he could not control an urge to grin. Since that feeling had become so unfamiliar to him over the past few years, he decided that he didn’t really want to try to squash it. He just hoped his smile was conveying more of a polite ‘thank you for welcoming me’ rather than ‘I just had shower sex with your son.’ 

The house-elves had finished serving, and the family was alone before Lucius spoke again. He had resumed his seat at the head of the table and was looking for all the world as if he hadn’t just caught his son kissing the Savior of the Wizarding world. In a tone of utter nonchalance, he said, “When my wife told me that there would be a guest joining us this morning, I had no idea that it would be you, Mr. Potter.”

“Well… I wasn’t sure if I would… make it. Or not.” Harry wished he was not stumbling over his words. “Um… things have been a bit mad lately.”

It was quiet again as they began to eat once more. Draco gave Harry an encouraging smile from his place across the table. Harry hoped that meant that he didn’t think Lucius was too upset about discovering them kissing. They had some very important things to discuss with Lucius and Narcissa, and he hoped that the whole caught snogging up against the wall thing wouldn’t distract anyone. Not to say that Harry wasn’t just a bit distracted by it himself. Draco’s kisses were -

“Draco, I was not aware that you and Mr. Potter had become… such good friends. I’m very pleased, of course,” Lucius said, turning to Harry. “Such a… friendship illustrates how far we’ve come as a society since the war.” Turning to Draco again he said, “I’m only surprised that you never mentioned that you and Mr. Potter had become… close.”

Glancing briefly at Harry before he answered, Draco said, “Well, we’ve known each other forever, of course. Working at the Ministry together -”

“And we’re both friends with Ron and Hermione,” Harry added in what he hoped was a helpful effort.

Draco smiled briefly at him before continuing. “Yes. We finally just… managed to put the past behind us.” Draco smiled at his father, hoping that the non-answer would suffice.

Lucius looked from one young man to the other before addressing Draco again – this time a bit more pointedly. “I only thought that you might have mentioned it to your parents.”

“Not that you must tell us everything, dear.” Narcissa spoke up, clearly trying to smooth over the mildly accusatory tone of Lucius’ comment.

Her efforts seemed to irritate Lucius. With a bit of a huff, he tossed his napkin onto the table. “No, Narcissa. This is rather somewhat different than suddenly being a cat owner. If our son’s relationship with this man has progressed to -” he struggled but finally managed to say “kissing, I think that he could be a little more forthcoming than ‘we finally put the past behind us.’

Narcissa’s hands flew to her cheeks. “Kissing?” she exclaimed in obvious delight.

“You didn’t know?” Lucius asked her sharply.

Narcissa brow furrowed as she answered him. “No. Why would I know if you didn’t know?” Then she looked dreamily from one young man to the other.

“You knew who our guest was to be, and you greeted him with a certain… camaraderie.” Lucius now sat with his arms folded across his chest, looking with open suspicion at the other three. 

Harry was growing concerned. He certainly didn’t want to cause a problem between Draco’s parents. He supposed it would have been better to ease Draco’s parents into the idea of the two of them being together. They hadn’t really discussed how or when they would tell people about this thing between them. When they had gone to Hogwarts to use the Pensieve and see Professor McGonagall, they had been observed expressing their feelings. Now Lucius had seen them together. It was just happening that way, and Harry thought that, maybe, it was for the best. 

Still, he felt that he should say something to keep the tension from escalating further. “Mr. Malfoy, there’s really been no time to tell you. Draco and I have been working on something together that’s been fairly demanding. We’ve only recently…” Once again Harry found himself at a loss for words. What were they? He was trying to think of how to appropriately express it before he ended up blurting out something like ‘we’ve only recently begun to want to spend every waking moment together - naked.’

“Become romantically involved.” Draco finished the statement for him. Harry was a little surprised by the note of vulnerability in Draco’s voice. He gave Draco a wide smile that he hoped would tell the other man that ‘romantically involved’ was… perfect. At least Harry thought so.

“Oh, Draco! That’s wonderful – truly!” Narcissa beamed at her son and then at Harry. “I didn’t realize -”

Lucius didn’t seem quite satisfied, but managed to say with some civility, “Well then, I suppose this morning’s visit was to break the joyous news? Or are we only discussing it now because I interrupted the two of you in the hall?”

“Father, there is a reason for Harry’s visit.” Draco stepped in to explain. “We do need to talk to you and Mother about this situation we’re working on.” 

“Surely that can wait until after breakfast, Draco,” Narcissa said. “You indicated it was quite serious. That kind of discussion should not be held at the table.”

“Certainly, Mother.” 

Harry thought Lucius still looked a bit miffed, thinking he’d been left out in some way. It was true that Narcissa already knew about the kitten issue. That was a potentially sticky topic. Harry was already a little concerned about telling Lucius that he and the kitten were one and the same – particularly since Lucius had such a strong aversion to cats. He hoped that wouldn’t transition into a strong aversion to his son’s boyfriend.

Boyfriend… Once again that urge to grin overtook him, and he knew he must look completely foolish. Draco had wanted him to make a good impression, and Harry was now beginning to realize that so many things could sabotage that: Lucius and the cat issue, Harry dragging Draco into his other problems, the shock of finding out that he and Draco were ‘romantically involved.’ Yes, Harry should probably be feeling worried about all of that. Somehow, the urge to grin won out. 

It only slowly registered with Harry that, only a couple of days ago, he would have been overwhelmed by the possible pitfalls of the situation. The negative force that had plagued him would have magnified all those factors until Harry was consumed by anger and depression. Looking now at Draco, the words of the old woman came back to him. “Do not be afraid. He will save you. Calm you. Love you.” And Harry knew – as certainly as he knew anything – that it was true. Draco had saved him. Would save him. And would love him – every bit as much as Harry knew that he loved Draco.

Draco, cup poised for a sip of tea, was halted by the radiant smile on Harry’s face. The other man’s eyes were shining, and he was looking at Draco as if there was nothing else in the world but the two of them. At that moment, he wished more than anything that was true. No curses, no demands on the time of the Savior, no parents sitting in the same room to stop him from crawling across the table to claim the beautiful man sitting there shining with… love. 

“Well, I assume that breakfast is over. My son and his… beau are apparently interested only in feasting their eyes on each other. My wife is content to watch them – or glare at me. I’m full to the brim with anticipation to hear of this dire situation that brings the Savior to our door for assistance.” Lucius stood and gestured toward the door. “Shall we adjourn to the drawing room?”

Though she gracefully rose to join him, Narcissa’s eyes held storms that would likely break upon her husband. Once she was certain that Lucius was aware of his peril, she bestowed a beatific smile upon the two younger men, then turned to leave the room. Her husband tried very hard to look as if he was escorting her, rather than trailing along behind.

Harry and Draco, having risen with Narcissa, could not seem to get to each other fast enough around the large dining room table. They met at the end, lips crashing together, neither able to resist the need to touch intimately even for the briefest of moments. 

“Draco…” Harry managed around the kiss. His arms around Draco’s waist pulled the other man tightly against him. That scent – Draco – fulfilled his every wish. Made him feel as if he was holding everything he’d ever need right in his arms. 

Slipping his fingers possessively into Harry’s hair, Draco lost himself in the sweetness of the kiss. He’d never felt like this before. Harry was his everything. His hero. His kitten. His love. Laughter burst from his lips, and he met Harry’s surprised gaze with sparkling grey eyes. “How did I ever get through a day without being able to touch you?”

Before Harry could decide how best to answer that, a noise at the door caught their attention. They turned to find Narcissa there, watching them with obvious approval – and just a hint of amusement.

“Mother!” Draco couldn’t believe she had been watching them as they kissed. 

Looking not the least bit repentant, Narcissa said, “Your father was getting a bit restless, but didn’t want to come looking for you again. Come along now, my darlings.”

Draco smirked, and Harry grinned sheepishly as they followed her across the hall to the drawing room. Lucius was standing regally by the fireplace, his Master of the Manor demeanor firmly in place. Narcissa eased gracefully onto a comfortable chair near her husband, leaving the couch to Harry and Draco. As they sat, the ornate clock on the side table chimed the hour. Harry was immediately distracted by it, though he was relieved to note that he had no desire to leap upon it.

Lucius, registering Harry’s interest in the clock, said proudly, “Goblin-made. A gift to my ancestor, Meroveus. Exquisite, don’t you think, Mr. Potter?”

Shiny, Harry thought. Aloud he said, “Yes, it’s beautiful.” Turning from the clock to look at Draco’s parents, he added, “Please, I’d prefer if both of you would just call me ‘Harry.’”

“Very well, Harry.” Narcissa smiled at him encouragingly. “Why don’t you tell us the reason for your visit.”

Glancing briefly at Draco, Harry began to explain. “Well, I’ve been… exposed to some magic and we’re having some difficulty in identifying it. Draco thought the two of you might be able to help us with that.”

Lucius expression was carefully guarded as he said, “So, you believe it to be Dark Magic?”

“Possibly,” Draco said. “We’re not really sure, but -” he almost sounded apologetic, “we thought you might be able to tell us if it was.”

Lucius exchanged a brief look with Narcissa before turning back to the two younger wizards and giving a nod. “Tell us what you know.”

“We’ve been able to determine that there’s something… evil at my house. There was a compulsion on me. It made me feel that I had to be at the house – that I couldn’t spend too much time away from it.” Turning to Draco he added, “I’ve been wondering if that’s part of the reason I’ve been so angry at work. Work is the only thing that’s taken me away from Grimmauld Place for any real length of time.”

“Grimmauld Place?” Lucius asked sharply. 

“Yes,” Draco confirmed. “Number twelve. Aunt Walburga’s place.”

Lucius looked questioningly at Harry, but Narcissa was nodding. “My cousin, Sirius, made you his heir. I’d forgotten about that. Actually, I thought the house was still being used by the Order or in the hands of the Ministry. There would have been enough Dark artifacts there to keep them busy for ages.”

“Well, I think I was able to get rid of most of the things. Gave most of it to the Department of Mysteries for the Unspeakables to sort out.” Harry shivered a bit and, without hesitation, Draco slipped an arm around him.

“You mentioned a compulsion designed to keep you at the house, Harry.” Lucius' use of Harry’s name seemed a bit awkward. “You also used past tense. Are you no longer compelled to be there?”

“No. We went to Hogwarts – that’s actually related to another kind of magic I’ve been exposed to. I’ll tell you more about that later. Anyway, Hogwarts recognized the compulsion within me and fought it.” At both Lucius’ and Narcissa’s looks of surprise he hastened to add, “Professor McGonagall said that Hogwarts was able to battle it because it was caused by another magical place.”

“Evidently, Hogwarts has a strong attachment to Harry,” Draco said, smiling at the other man. “I can understand that,” he added quietly, but not really caring if he was overheard.

“So,” Lucius said, “you no longer feel compelled to be at Grimmauld Place. The question, though, is why Grimmauld Place wanted you there.”

“Well, Harry mentioned that we discovered the evil there. Hermione was with us and tried to run a few diagnostic spells, but didn’t really have time to do much. We all felt that we had to get away from there as quickly as possible.”

“The evil… it’s like this malignant force.” Harry sighed deeply and looked at Draco. Receiving the encouraging smile that he needed, he continued. “I’ve been struggling with… these feelings of anger for a long time. These past few days – since the compulsion has been vanquished and I’ve been able to be away from the house – I think I’ve slowly been feeling better. It was as if I had been feeling either sad or angry for years. Now, I’m able to recognize how the compulsion – or the evil or whatever – distorted my perception of things.”

“So now that the compulsion is gone, you’re no longer under this… curse?” Narcissa asked.

“Well, I don’t know. This is the first day that I can honestly say that I haven’t felt any of the anger or sadness. It usually begins the moment I wake.” Turning to smile shyly at Draco, he added, “This has been a really good day.”

“Well, if the magic is place-oriented, it may be because you’ve been here at the Manor,” Narcissa said. “Hogwarts was able to defeat the compulsion. The Manor may be further shielding you from that malignant force.”

“Except that he only arrived this morning,” Lucius said. “And the Manor does not have an ‘attachment’ to Mr. Potter in the way that Hogwarts seems to have.”

Harry was blushing furiously, and Draco felt it would be best to avoid the issue of just how long Harry had been at the Manor – for a bit longer at least. It had been Harry’s nightmare that had initially prompted Draco to want to discuss this with his parents, so he decided this would be a good time to mention it. “There is something else. Harry had a nightmare while we were at Hogwarts. This was after the compulsion had been discovered and destroyed. In the nightmare, Grimmauld Place was falling apart around him. Everything was decaying.” Draco looked to Harry for confirmation that he was relaying the details correctly. “He was even able to smell something rotting. And then he began to turn to ash himself.”

The reaction from Draco’s parents was instantaneous. Both looked sharply at one another and then turned to Harry. The grave countenance they each presented sent a chill through him. He reluctantly voiced his question. “Do you know what it is? Is it Dark magic?” 

“Rotten magic,” Narcissa said in a hushed tone.

Harry exchanged a look with Draco before saying, “Rotten magic?”

“Yes,” Lucius said. “Or, quite literally, Rotting magic.” 

Draco’s sense of alarm was evident. “Are you sure?”

Harry had never heard of Rotting magic, but the Malfoys obviously had and seemed to take it quite seriously. Harry was sure that did not bode well. Anything that could intimidate a family like the Malfoys was nothing to be taken lightly.

“Well,” Lucius said, “I don’t think we can be certain just yet – not without more details. It certainly sounds like something Walburga would do.”

“Please, explain this to me.” Harry looked at each Malfoy in turn. All three looked reluctant to discuss it.

Finally it was Narcissa who began. “Rotting magic was something used by some of the old families. It was a way to ensure that property and possessions remained in the family.”

“So this is about Sirius making me his heir? It was legally done and the house recognized me as the owner. Or seemed to,” Harry said. “I’ve lived there since the end of the war.”

“Sirius was within his right to name you as his heir, Harry,” Narcissa assured him. “But that doesn’t mean that his ancestors approved.”

“But… they’re dead. Aren’t they?” Harry felt a bit foolish asking. But despite the fact that he’d lived in the Wizarding world for several years now, he was constantly coming across new information.

“Yes, but one of them may have put something in place – a safeguard of sorts – to ensure that the house did not fall into the hands of someone not of the Black family bloodline,” she explained.

“I’m not pure-blood,” Harry said, with no small amount of exasperation and bitterness. “Does this never end?” 

“Not for someone like Walburga Black. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she had set this type of magic in place,” Lucius said, an expression of disdain on his face. “Her family pride was definitely entwined with that house. You would have thought it was a palace.” 

“Is there a way to know for certain if that’s what has happened?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know if it matters, but I’ve recently been checked out by the Healers at St. Mungo’s. They said there was nothing physically or magically wrong with me. Of course, we know they were wrong. They didn’t catch the compulsion.” Harry didn’t add that they failed to find a trace of the magic the old woman cast. He felt that the kitten discussion could be delayed a while longer.

“Well, there’s a reason for that,” Narcissa said. “The compulsion was part of the Rotting magic curse. They wouldn’t have found that when they examined you, Harry. That curse is on Grimmauld Place itself, not you.”

Harry was stunned. “Walburga cursed her own home?”

“Assuming it was Walburga – and I, for one, am fairly comfortable with that assumption,” Lucius said. “You have to understand that for someone like Walburga – someone completely insane – it’s the old ‘if I can’t have it, no one will.’ To her mind, it would be better for the place to cease to exist than to be given to someone she considered unworthy of it.” 

“Controlling old hag,” Draco said, and received not a hint of remonstrance from either parent.

“How would she have known?” Harry asked suddenly. “I mean, she’s dead. How was the house supposed to recognize that I was ‘unworthy?’ Was it simply a matter of knowing somehow that I’m not pure-blood?”

“Not necessarily,” Narcissa said. “There probably would have been something set in place that would activate the curse. Something that someone ‘worthy’ of the inheritance would never say or do.”

“And nothing that might be done by accident,” Lucius added. “It had to be purposefully done.”

“Like removing the house-elf heads from the wall?” Draco asked, only half joking.

“You did that?” Lucius asked, regarding Harry with a glint of admiration. “Bravo!”

“What other changes have you made, Harry?” Narcissa inquired. “You mentioned that you gave away several dark objects to the Department of Mysteries. It could be that one of those things leaving the property may have activated it.”

But Harry knew that wasn’t it. With a flash of intuition, he knew what had activated the curse – and that he had been the one to do it. “Walburga’s portrait,” he said with certainty. “I removed Walburga’s portrait from the wall.”

“Your nightmare.” Draco turned to Harry. “You mentioned that you thought the portrait was in your nightmare.”

Harry remembered that quite clearly. “I heard her shrieking.”

Narcissa was nodding, but seemed for the moment unable to speak. Finally she looked at Harry and said, “That’s it. It has to be. Walburga would have assumed that only someone who didn’t share her bloodline or her values would have removed her portrait.”

“Incredible arrogance,” Lucius said, lips curled in distaste. “Who wouldn’t have wanted to remove that portrait?”

“That’s true. If he had lived, Sirius might have removed the portrait. She wasn’t too fond of him either – always yelling out ‘blood traitor’ at him.” Harry said. “Would he have activated the curse?”

“Yes,” Lucius said. “Even though a direct blood descendant, he would have been an unworthy heir to commit such an act.”

“So,” Harry seemed reluctant to ask the question. “Do you think that’s it? I activated this Rotting magic curse by removing the portrait?”

“I would say that is exactly what has happened,” Narcissa said. “Your anger and melancholy are further proof.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

Narcissa paused for a moment as if thinking through her answer. Finally she said, “There is a Muggle novel about a young man named Dorian Gray. Do you know it?”

Harry, momentarily surprised that Narcissa Malfoy would reference anything Muggle, shook his head. His upbringing with the Dursleys had, in many ways, left him less knowledgeable of the Muggle world than many pure-bloods.

“I won’t relate the entire story, but the title character is a beautiful young man. Admiring a portrait of himself, he makes a wish to stay forever beautiful. The portrait is a magical object. In answer to his wish, the portrait ages while Dorian Gray stays forever young and beautiful. However, the portrait does more than just age. It bears the marks of all the young man’s evil deeds. Every time he commits an act of evil, the portrait is marred.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said. “What has that got to do with the curse on Grimmauld Place?”

Narcissa rose and moved to sit beside Harry on the couch. “Rotting magic acts in a way similar to the magic portrait. The curse is on the house itself. But think for a moment, Harry. Does Grimmauld look any different to you now than when you first saw it?”

Harry thought for a moment. “No. I mean - it’s never looked good. I’ve tried to make some changes, clean it up a bit. But it’s always been dark and a little creepy.”

“But it looks no worse, correct?” Harry nodded his agreement and Narcissa brought her hand up to cup his cheek. “That’s because the decay of the house, the evidence of the curse, is manifesting itself in you.”

Harry couldn’t help it. He recoiled from her touch and turned into Draco’s arms. He focused on the warmth of those strong arms. Anchored himself to that scent that meant safety. Allowed the whispered comfort to calm his racing heart. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to raise his head from Draco’s shoulder as he asked, “I’m decaying?”

“No!” Narcissa’s reply was firm. She put a hand on his shoulder, trying to encourage Harry to look at her once more. “Harry, I’m sorry. You misunderstood.”

Draco voice shook with barely controlled anger. “Then perhaps you should explain it more clearly.” 

“Draco!” Lucius took a step forward.

“No, Lucius.” Narcissa turned to calm him. “Draco is correct. Harry, please, look at me.” 

Harry turned to her, his face as guarded as he was probably capable of making it. But Narcissa saw the hint of fear there, and her heart constricted. “Oh, dear Harry. Please listen. You’ve told us that you have felt anger and sadness. Probably despair, as well?”

He gave a small nod of agreement, and Narcissa continued. “The Rotting magic is designed to make the target give up hope. The house or possession you might have felt pride or pleasure in owning would be the very thing to destroy you. Grimmauld Place may show no outward sign of its deterioration, but it is rotting away just the same. The evil, the malignancy, is destroying it. But the curse only allows the object to be seen as it has always been. Meanwhile, it eats away at your joy, your happiness. Until, eventually, you lose all hope.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry whispered.

It was Lucius who answered. “Most victims of Rotting magic have, in total despair, destroyed the possession that was cursed – and in the process, destroyed themselves as well.” 

“But, Harry’s been feeling better.” Draco couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice. “He’s beat the compulsion. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Yes – it does,” Narcissa insisted. “The curse is limited by proximity. The purpose of the compulsion was to keep you close to the cursed object – Grimmauld Place – so that the negativity could continue to poison you. That’s another reason why it’s referred to as Rotting magic. It’s a slow process so that the victim doesn’t realize what’s happening.”

“So, my house has been poisoning me ever since I removed that portrait?” Harry asked.

Narcissa nodded, but it was Lucius who asked, “When did you remove the portrait?”

Harry didn’t have to think about it. “It was during the first year after the twins were born. Ron and Hermione were busy being new parents, so I had a lot of time on my hands to figure things out.” Looking from one Malfoy to the next he said, “That was almost five years ago.”

Narcissa drew in a sharp breath. “How is that possible? The curse is meant to be slow and agonizing. But, after this much time, most victims would have been driven to insanity by the despair.” Again she cupped his cheek as she very softly said, “It’s a miracle that you are alive, Harry.”

“Perhaps not,” Lucius said, and they all turned to look at him. “Harry Potter is a fighter, not easily thwarted – as many an adversary has discovered.” He gave a small nod to Harry and received a smile in return. 

“And as always,” Draco said, a smile coloring his voice, “the rules just don’t apply to him.”

Harry nudged Draco with his shoulder. He fell serious again, though, as he asked Narcissa, “So, you think that I’m no longer… being poisoned? The curse is over?”

“You are no longer being poisoned, but you can never go back to that house or it will start again. Remember, the house is still cursed. It is still rotting. As long as you stay away from it, the curse cannot affect you. That’s the reason that getting rid of the compulsion was key.” Narcissa took his hand and added, “This is very important, Harry. You spent almost five years under the influence of that Rotting magic. That poison does not disappear overnight. You may be fighting those feeling of anger and despair for some time to come.”

“But you’re already feeling better,” Draco told him. Meeting Harry’s gaze he continued, “And I’ll be there to help you. I promised I would be, remember?”

Harry threw his arms around Draco. “Thank you. Thank you for saving me. Just like she said you would.”

“That’s not all she said,” Draco whispered and smiled as he heard Harry begin to laugh softly.

Narcissa moved to stand by her husband. The two of them watched as the young men sat close together, whispering hopes and exchanging quick kisses. Lucius sighed heavily, and Narcissa turned to him with a questioning look. 

“I think he’s chosen well.” Lucius explained. “They look very happy, don’t they?”

Narcissa nodded her agreement. “Yes, very happy. But are you sure you don’t mind? You have quite a history with Harry Potter yourself.”

Smiling slyly Lucius said, “I think we can manage to ‘put the past behind us.’ Harry could be a very good addition to the family.” Lucius watched the young men thoughtfully for a few moments before sighing again. “Now if we can just convince Draco to get rid of that damned cat.”

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

“We should send an owl to Ron and Hermione,” Harry said. He still sat close beside Draco on the couch.

“Or Floo call. You know Hermione will have questions,” Draco suggested. One arm rested across the back of the couch behind Harry’s shoulders. His other hand held one of Harry’s lightly as he linked and unlinked their fingers, stroked across knuckles, tickled the palm. Harry’s quiet chuckle drew his attention away from their hands.

“Playing with my paws?” Harry whispered. Narcissa and Lucius stood just across the drawing room, talking quietly. He didn’t want them – Lucius particularly – to overhear that particular comment.

Draco’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as he realized what he had been doing. Sharing Harry’s smile, he said, “Well, I know how much you like it.” Then, glancing quickly toward his parents and back to Harry, he breathed the quietest whisper, “Kitten.” 

Harry’s face once again flushed with pleasure at the endearment. He didn’t know why the sappy term pleased him so much, but he just seemed to melt a little whenever Draco said it. He wondered if he would eventually come up with a silly nickname for Draco, the way couples seemed to do. But what would it be? Sweetie? Pookie? Stud? Catnip? 

Before Draco could inquire after the meaning of Harry’s current odd little grin, Narcissa and Lucius approached them. Draco hadn’t really noticed when they had moved across the room to stand near the large windows. He now realized that they had been giving him a moment of privacy with Harry. That gesture carried implicit permission. Obviously his parents approved of his relationship with Harry.

Narcissa still had a hint of that amused sparkle in her eyes, but her tone was serious. “Harry, now that we’ve identified the Rotting magic, you should consider what you want to do about Grimmauld Place."

Exchanging a look with Draco, Harry said, “Well, I’m not really sure what you mean. I know that I can’t go back there; I’d already decided I wouldn’t anyway. Now that I know it was poisoning me, I’d be a fool to return.”

“Returning is clearly not an option; you are correct about that. The magic might manage to ensnare you with another compulsion,” Lucius said. “You now need to consider what to do about the property.”

“Why must he do anything with it?” Draco asked. “Other than avoid it.”

Narcissa had taken a seat in one of the comfortable chairs near the couch. As she smoothed her robes she said, “Lucius and I have been trying to remember more about the Rotting magic. We believe that, without you as its target, the curse will cause the house to more rapidly – and, of course, more obviously – show the signs of decay.”

“Why is that a concern?” Draco asked. “Harry’s not going back there. No one is going to try to live there.”

“We’re not completely certain of the ramifications. This is arcane magic and, to my knowledge, has not been used by the Malfoy family for several generations.” Lucius stood behind Narcissa, a hand resting lightly upon her shoulder. “Our library very likely contains some information about this curse. We need to ascertain what will happen to the house.”

“Why?” Harry asked, still not clear about this concern about the property.

It was Lucius who answered him, exasperation – with a definite hint of his customary superciliousness – evident in his tone. “If for no other reason, than because a magical property rotting away under an evil curse in what is now a Muggle neighborhood in the middle of London seems like an monumentally bad idea.”

Harry was much more accustomed to this sort of comment from Lucius Malfoy than the helpful, concerned remarks the man had delivered for most of the discussion. To Harry, that air of condescension was just Lucius’ manner. Evidently, his wife and son believed that Lucius had overstepped some boundary because he felt Draco stiffen beside him and saw frost begin to glaze Narcissa’s features. While Harry appreciated this apparent desire to protect him, he’d never before needed help in dealing with Lucius and didn’t think he needed it now. This was especially true since he really thought Lucius was just being… Lucius. 

Before Draco or his mother could say anything, Harry answered back. “Sarcastic understatement duly noted,” Harry returned, and smirked in an effort to reassure Draco and Narcissa that he was unscathed. “I’ll admit I hadn’t thought of what might happen to the house, or the possible consequences.”

“We are uncertain, Harry,” Narcissa said. “From what we can recall, the destruction of the possession and the human target were usually tied together. We believe that in many cases the human target, driven mad by despair, destroyed the object and himself simultaneously.”

“What if the object, or possession, rots away first?” Harry asked. “I mean, what if Grimmauld Place had decayed completely before I… lost all hope?”

Narcissa exchanged a brief look with Lucius before answering. “We don’t believe it happened that way quite as often. I suppose it would depend on what the object was; some things being more likely to decay more quickly than others.”

“A piece of jewelry, for example, would probably decay very slowly because of the nature of the components,” Lucius interjected.

“But if it did happen that way?” Harry persisted.

“If the object did complete the decaying process first, the human target – in anguish over the loss of the possession – would end his or her own life,” Narcissa said. “You must remember that the purpose of this curse was to punish a person who would dare to lay claim to a pure-blood family heirloom – something to which they were not entitled.”

Harry took a deep breath and, in an apparently unconscious gesture that raised eyebrows among the Malfoys, rubbed his hand across the scar on his forehead. “I get the element of revenge against the person. That really doesn’t seem like too much of a stretch for -” Harry took just that brief moment that allowed tact and diplomacy to catch up with his mouth, “some of the older families. It’s just that… destroying the heirloom itself, something they considered precious… seems kind of extreme.”

Perfect silence met Harry’s comment. He looked up to see the elder Malfoys with those flawlessly neutral masks that would never betray a hint of the emotion hidden behind them. But Draco… his expression was just… odd. He looked frozen in the midst of deciding between horrified curiosity and amused disbelief. Finally, the amusement seemed to win out because a small, almost-smile worked its way onto Draco’s face.

“Harry.” Draco’s voice had that careful pitch and inflection people tend to use when dealing with someone of questionable sanity. “Are you saying that you can’t imagine those older, pure-blood families… ever… taking something to the extreme?”

Draco’s questioning gaze held Harry’s while he worked out the real question that was being asked. To facilitate that process Draco reached up and ran one pale finger very lightly along Harry’s scar. Understanding quickly followed – along with images of black robes and Dark marks.

“Oh. Right.” Harry really didn’t know what else to say about that. Lucius and Narcissa, statue-still, were watching him as if determined to wait for him to tell them they could move, breathe. It was extremely unsettling, and Harry suddenly wished he was a kitten again, chasing Narcissa’s ball of yarn or making Lucius sneeze.

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand to draw his attention. He was grateful for the distraction. Draco drew a finger across his knuckle in the same light caress he had traced across Harry’s scar. No one ever touched his scar, though plenty of people stared at it as if they wanted to. Harry had always been grateful that, despite the intrusive behavior that some of those people had exhibited, no one had worked up the nerve to do so. Now, he was somewhat surprised to find himself hoping that Draco would touch it again. Well, not now, of course. Definitely… later. 

“Later,” Harry thought, then realized he’d said it aloud. Hoping they hadn’t heard, he wondered vaguely how many more times he could embarrass himself in front of Draco’s parents before the end of the day. Or lunch. It wasn’t looking good. Perhaps they’d think his odd behavior a result of the emotional stress created by the curse. Although... the thought that they might just see him as emotionally unstable didn’t seem to reassure him. 

Draco came to his rescue once again by returning the conversation to the more pressing matter of the situation with Grimmauld Place. Directing the question to his parents he asked, “Is there anything else you can recall about this Rotting magic?”

“Nothing, really,” Lucius said, exchanging a glance with Narcissa to see if she concurred. “I’m sure there will be more to discuss once we’ve had a chance to see what we can find in the library.”

“I have another question,” Harry said. Both Lucius and Narcissa nodded encouragement for him to ask. “You said that, without me as the target of the curse, the house will deteriorate more quickly. Why wouldn’t the decaying process – the curse on the house – just… end?” 

“That’s one of the things we’re uncertain of, Harry,” Narcissa said. “I would be surprised if anyone has ever escaped the curse as you’ve managed to do. If there are cases where the target ceased to exist first, it was probably because they died in some manner that was not tied to the destruction of the possession.”

“But that probably would have been a fluke,” Lucius added.

“Harry makes a good point, though,” Draco said. “If the target ceases to exist, why wouldn’t the curse on the possession just end? The destruction of the human target would have been achieved, after all.”

“No,” Lucius answered. “There would have been the possibility that the unworthy heir would have an heir of his own. The object would still be in the possession of someone the original caster – in this case, Walburga – would have deemed unacceptable.”

Harry had been caught by something Narcissa had said. “You mentioned that the human target often destroyed the possession out of despair. I think… I can understand how that might have happened. I had felt for a long time that I really, truly hated Grimmauld Place. I hated being there, but couldn’t stand to be away from it at the same time. It did make me feel as if I was going a bit mad at times.”

“Had you thought about destroying it?” Draco asked.

“I don’t think I’d quite got to that point. I mainly felt guilty. I felt as if I was being ungrateful to Sirius. He’d made me his heir, and I hated what he had given me.” Harry’s quiet voice was laced with that guilt even now.

“I think there is something you should understand about pure-blood inheritance, Harry.” Lucius now moved to sit in the chair next to Narcissa's, across from the two younger wizards. “Inheritance is not solely concerned with possessions.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Draco is my heir. You know this, of course.” Lucius paused for a moment and that carefully blank mask had returned when he continued. “If – after the war – we had lost everything… if the Ministry had decided to take the manor or managed somehow to wrestle the Malfoy fortune away from the goblins, Draco would still be the Malfoy heir.” 

“Even with nothing to inherit?” Harry asked.

“This is something that those unfamiliar with pure-blood traditions often fail to understand,” Lucius said but, at the sharp looks from his wife and son, quickly added, “I mean no offence by that, Harry.”

To further reassure Draco and Narcissa that there was no need to feel indignant on his behalf, Harry answered, “I know you didn’t. Those of us who are raised in the Muggle world are at a disadvantage when we enter the Wizarding one. Even though I’ve known I was a wizard for several years now, I’m frequently coming across things that are completely new to me, but that everyone else seems to know. On my list of ‘Things I Never Would Have Guessed,’ pure-blood traditions are in their own special little category.” A hint of a smirk appeared on Harry’s face as he added, “No offense meant toward your pure-blood traditions.” 

With an answering smirk, Lucius gave a small nod before continuing his explanation. “We understand that many of our traditions seem quite antiquated. But I would argue that, for the most part, they still have merit. Particularly those dealing with inheritance.” Lucius regarded Draco for a moment before he continued. “I am extremely proud of my son, Mr. Potter. He is a good man who has respect for the traditions of his family. I am fortunate that my son is a worthy heir. For the Malfoy family, that title connotes heavy responsibilities. This is not true for all pure-blood families. Regardless of their status or accumulated wealth, however, each family names an heir. Usually that person is the eldest son. I understand that our traditions resemble those of old Muggle families in that regard.”

Harry nodded his understanding of that point, then asked, “So, even if there is nothing to inherit, an heir is named to… determine who will be the next head of the family?”

“Family is the key, Harry. Being named as heir is an acknowledgement of ranking membership in a family.” Lucius allowed that statement to settle before he continued. “Sirius Black bequeathed to you his material possessions, that is true. But his main purpose in naming you his heir was to attach you to his family.”

Harry looked a bit alarmed at the thought of being attached to Walburga’s family. Draco grasped Harry's hand once more as he explained. “Sirius was attaching you to himself, more than anything, Harry. Acknowledging that you were his family – his chosen family.”

Harry had never thought of his inheritance in the terms that the Malfoys were presenting. Draco’s words should have soothed him, but he had an overwhelming desire to nestle into Draco’s neck and wrap himself in that comforting scent. The sadness he’d thought was finally receding seemed to flare painfully.

He had been Sirius’ godson, but they had never had a chance to live as a family, so the concept had always remained somewhat abstract to Harry. He’d finally learned to disassociate the word ‘family’ from his experience with the Dursleys. Mostly, ‘family’ meant the Weasleys, the Burrow, Ron and Hermione’s twins. But it never meant something Harry had for himself. Not really.

The pain of losing Sirius, though eased by passing years, had never left him. It seemed, at times, that his hatred of the Black house had transmuted into an anger – he couldn’t bring himself to call it hatred – toward Sirius. Sirius had left him and bequeathed to him this wreck of a house permeated with Darkness. Sirius had left him. Just like everyone else.

“I’m a Black, Harry.” Draco’s words rippled across the surface of the despair that Harry felt himself sinking into. “I’m a Malfoy, but I’m also a Black. I’m your family, Harry.”

A deep shuddering breath broke from Harry. The desperation began to recede as he felt Draco’s arms slip around him. Finally he nuzzled into that warm, comforting scent and felt… home. “How did you know?” he whispered. “How did you know what I needed?”

Draco cupped Harry’s cheek and pressed a soft kiss into his dark tangle of hair. “I’ve told you before, Harry. I know you.” He stroked Harry’s cheek and urged him to lift his face, bringing their lips together in a tender kiss. Draco’s mouth curled into a smile that broke the kiss, and he whispered, “And evidently it’s my destiny to save you, remember?”

Harry’s quiet laughter was like a gift. Draco’s smile widened as he gazed at the other man. He lifted a hand to smooth Harry’s hopelessly messy hair. The elder Malfoys looked on; Narcissa with a blissful little smile, Lucius wondering if Draco remembered the meaning of ‘decorum.’

“Well, if we hope to avert magical catastrophe, possibly saving untold numbers of innocent Muggles and wizards, we should see what the library may offer on this horrible curse.” As it was intended to do, Lucius' offhand, deadpan statement drew the attention of the others back to the issue at hand. 

Harry ignored the tone, but addressed the content. “You’re right,” he said. “We need to know if we should safeguard the house, or the neighborhood, in some way.”

Draco took a moment to enjoy the little thrill of excitement he always got when Harry used his Auror in Charge voice before saying, “We really should contact Hermione. She’ll want to know about the nature of the curse on Grimmauld Place. And she might have access to additional resources for information on Rotting magic.”

“That’s true,” Harry agreed. “It’s possible that the Unspeakables might already have the answer we’re looking for.”

“Lucius and I will begin the research in our library while you speak with Mrs. Weasley,” Narcissa said. 

“We’ll do that,” Harry said. “Then we’ll join you.”

“Oh, I believe Lucius and I can manage for a while. Why don’t the two of you enjoy the little bit of sunshine we have at the moment.” Narcissa took Lucius’ arm and began to lead him out of the room before he could utter any part of the objection that he seemed to be trying to formulate. “I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this, Harry, but you’re looking a bit like a rumpled kitten in need of a frolic in fresh air.” Stopping just at the door, Narcissa turned back to say, “We’ll see the two of you at lunch.”

“Rumpled kitten?” Harry said when he and Draco were alone. “I’m not sure a kitten can look rumpled, can it?” Pulling back from the embrace Draco was trying to pull him into he asked, “Do I look rumpled?”

“Not yet,” Draco said, and attached his mouth to Harry’s neck. Then, because he’d always admired Harry’s strong jaw line, he kissed his way up to it and decided to spend some quality time there.

“Mmmm… fresh air does sound good,” Harry said absently.

“So does frolicking,” Draco murmured against Harry’s skin. 

Harry sighed in pleasure and seemed unable to resist as Draco began to press him back onto the cushions. “Ummm… ” They were supposed to be… Oh. Right. “Floo call… ’Mione… mmph…”

“You’re right,” Draco said, pulling away suddenly. He stood up and offered his hand to a somewhat flustered Harry. “Let’s go make the call. The sooner we get the information to Hermione, answer her four hundred and eighty-three questions, then repeat the information for Ron, the sooner the frolicking can commence.”

“Four hundred and eighty-three?” Harry asked, laughter lacing his words.

“Give or take a dozen,” Draco said. “Come along now. We should hurry if we want to get in a good frolic before lunch...”

***=^;^=***

As expected, Hermione asked many questions – though probably not four hundred and eighty-three. She had never heard of Rotting magic, but was hopeful that some of her co-workers had. Ron, perhaps not surprisingly, had heard of this rare, old magic, but knew almost nothing about it – certainly nothing beyond what the Malfoys had already imparted.

Harry had been concerned about contacting Hermione and Ron. He felt that his friends had spent too much time during the past few days with him, instead of with their children. Now, as he and Draco walked along the garden path, he fretted that Ron and Hermione were once again immersing themselves in his problem.

“You need to stop worrying about it,” Draco said, leading Harry to an arbor covered in vines withered by the cooling autumn air. “If nothing else, Arthur and Molly are thrilled to have more time with their grandchildren.” He stopped to wrap his arms around Harry. “Now – who do you think will be the first to track down the information? Team Weasley or the Darker Duo?”

“Did you actually just refer to your parents as ‘the Darker Duo’?” Harry asked, seemingly unsure if he should be amused or offended on their behalf.

“Well, ‘Reformed Darker Duo’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” Draco wore a full-on smirk now. “Regardless, my money’s on them. It may be true that Hermione’s got the resources, intelligence, and tenacity. And Ron’s got… Hermione. But my parents have a rather specialized knowledge, perhaps even better resources, and an intense desire to make me happy.” Draco brought a hand up to brush softly across Harry’s cheek, then said, “Helping to rescue my favorite person from a evil curse will definitely do that.”

Harry’s instinctive response was to draw closer to Draco and nuzzle his neck. “You’re my favorite person, too,” he whispered. “Even before I was a kitten. I just… never could bring myself to tell you.”

Draco smiled into the dark tangled locks. “I suppose being a kitten hasn’t been too bad for you then?”

Harry seemed to consider that a moment before answering, head still resting on Draco’s shoulder. “Not really. It was a little… disconcerting at first.” Gently rubbing his face against the pale, silky neck, breathing in that scent, he added, “Actually, I kind of like it.”

“Me, too,” Draco whispered. 

Harry pulled back just enough to look up at Draco. Hesitating just a bit he said, “Do you think…”

Draco finished the question for him. “Do I think you could have a little kitten time?” The hopeful look in the big green eyes was impossible to resist.

Harry blushed a bit and nodded. His words, however, were doubtful. “I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about it. We’re supposed to be trying to find out more about Rotting magic. It would be irresponsible of me to go furry now. And, anyway, I’m not even sure if I could do it on my own again without Hogwarts’ magic to augment mine.”

“To begin with, you’re supposed to be frolicking – which I'll admit might best be done in kitten form. The others will find the answer, Harry. And when they do, Ron will oversee anything that must be done.” Draco gentled his voice a bit and added, “Even if the information they discover does indicate that something should be done at Grimmauld Place, you can’t be a part of it. You can’t risk going back there.”

“You’re right,” Harry said quietly. His entire body seemed suddenly weighted down with frustration and fatigue. Finally knowing about the curse should have been a relief, but at the moment he felt as if it had left him with yet another scar that would again leave him separate and alone.

Draco placed his hand under Harry’s chin to lift it before it could sink any lower. “I’m not even going to address the issue of responsibility. Well… except to say that taking on the responsibility of ridding the world of evil incarnate while you were still a messy, moody, incredibly enticing school boy has earned you at least one free pass.”

Harry smiled a bit. “Incredibly enticing?”

“Don’t change the topic.” Draco looked at Harry for a moment and once more brought his hand up to stroke across Harry’s cheek in a gentle caress. “Harry, I’m not going to tell you, one way or the other, whether you should change into Pof or not. You certainly don’t need my permission. It’s got to be your decision if you want to try to, purposely, change.”

“Do you think I can?” Harry asked. 

“Yes,” Draco said without hesitation. “I also believe you can change back to your human form if you want to.” Draco took a deep, slow breath. “I just hope that you do want to.”

“I want – need – to spend a little time as Pof. But, I don’t want to stay a kitten, Draco,” Harry assured him. Leaning in, he brushed his lips across Draco’s earlobe before whispering, “Kittens aren’t very fond of showers. I definitely am.”

Draco turned to take Harry’s mouth, claiming him so that he could not fail to return. They fit together perfectly; soft lips pressing together in a connection so intimate that Draco almost felt a spell had been cast to bind them together. 

“Promise to come back to me,” Draco whispered, lips still brushing Harry’s. 

“Promise,” Harry pledged, once more pressing his lips against Draco’s before pulling away. 

Draco watched as Harry closed his eyes, moving himself through that process which would transform him into the black kitten. He had always been intrigued by the magic required for Animagus transformations. He knew this was not the same, and that actually made what Harry was trying to do that much more extraordinary.

Suddenly Harry opened his eyes, and a brilliant smile lit up his face. Those shining green eyes looked piercingly into Draco’s, and then the change began. Once again, Harry fluidly relinquished his human form for that of the tiny kitten with soft black fur. Just as he had that first time in the elevator, Draco looked down to see the small creature staring up at him. Instead of crying out frantically, however, the kitten was purring loudly. 

“Hello, Pof.” Draco drew his wand to cast the spell that would allow him to understand Harry’s kitten sounds before bending to lift him up.

 _“Hi, Draco!”_ The kitten immediately rubbed his furry face against Draco’s neck, causing the man to give a shiver. 

“That tickles, you know.” Draco carried the kitten out of the arbor and started toward a grassy area. The ground was still wet, so Draco cast a spell to dry out a patch before Transfiguring his robe into a blanket. He used more magic to make the blanket impermeable as further protection against the dampness.

 _Hmmmm…_ Pof purred happily, as he scampered from one corner of the blanket to the other, hopping over the long legs of his wizard companion. _“Thank you, Draco. I feel better now.”_

Draco thought about that for a moment before asking, “Do you suppose that’s why the old woman cast this spell?” The little kitten stopped to look at him, cocking his head to the side. “What I mean is: maybe the spell she cast really was to help you. To give you a coping mechanism of sorts.”

Pof put his paws up on Draco’s legs and hopped into his lap. _“Maybe. Mmmmm… I like purring. It tickles. Tickling is good!”_

Draco laughed and gathered the kitten to hold against him. “I suppose it’s not too bad. Just takes a bit of getting used to.” He stroked the soft fur and rubbed his chin against the top of the kitten’s head as Pof once again began to nuzzle his neck. 

Draco’s scent, as often happened, seemed to surround him, filling him with a contentment he had never felt as a human. Except… there were those times lately with Draco. Pof thought that maybe it felt just as good to be in Draco’s arms when he was a man as it did now. _Mmmm… Draco is always snuggleable. So warm. Mmmm… my Draco._ Pof settled down into that warmth. _“I love you, Draco.”_

The kitten was snuggling in his arms, purring loudly, when he made his declaration. Draco wondered if the kitten, Harry, remembered that he could now be understood. He realized that Pof thought and expressed himself in simpler terms. Those words didn’t necessarily carry the emotional weight they would if expressed by the human Harry. It didn’t really matter much at that moment, though. Draco smiled against the dark fur, and whispered, “I love you, too… kitten.”

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Blue sky was becoming increasingly visible; the sun finally seemed to be beating back the rain clouds in Wiltshire. Draco hoped that when they returned to London the same would be true there. 

He found himself smiling at the thought that he and Harry would be going back to London together. To his flat. **_Together_**. Returning to Grimmauld Place was not an option, but Draco was certain that Harry would have been welcomed by any number of Weasleys and other Gryffindors. Instead, though, Harry would be coming home with him. His smile widened.

Pof, no thought for anything but the present, was currently launching himself at the kitten-sized Snitch Draco had created for him. The small object zipped around the area of the blanket as the kitten jumped at it, pounced on it, and even occasionally caught it. Of course it would soon be set free again so that the game could continue. 

“You seem to like the Snitch just as much as the bubbles.” Draco laughed at the kitten’s antics and stretched out a bit as he recast the Warming charm. The sunshine was a nice change, but didn’t completely cut the chill of the autumn air.

 _“This is fun! Like Quidditch!”_ Pof once more launched himself into the air and almost caught the elusive toy Snitch. He landed very near Draco and hopped over to touch a cold nose to the pale cheek. _“But the bubbles are pretty. And I like it when they pop!”_ And then he was off after the little Snitch again.

With a soft pop, Mimsey appeared, bowing low. “Master Draco, a Floo call for you from the Ministry. Mistress Narcissa is saying it is urgent.”

“Thank you, Mimsey.” Draco stood, gathering Pof into his arms. “An urgent call from the Ministry can’t be good. Perhaps we should Apparate,” he told the kitten – and did so without giving Pof a chance to respond. 

They appeared in the hall, but toward the rear of the house. As Draco hurried forward, his mother came to meet them. “Pof, go with Mother for a moment, will you?” Again not waiting for an answer, he placed a quick kiss on top of the furry head before handing the kitten over to his mother and rushing off down the hall.

Narcissa stroked the soft fur and reassured the small animal. “Don’t worry, Puff. Draco will come back for you soon.”

 _“I know,”_ Pof told her, but then remembered that Draco had not cast the spell to allow him to be understood by anyone else. He was a bit worried, knowing that an urgent Floo call from the Ministry rarely meant good news. He couldn’t deny the nagging suspicion that the call had something to with Grimmauld Place. 

The kitten stayed very still as Narcissa carried him into the drawing room. The room was occupied by the Master of the Manor, who immediately stood from his chair and began to back away from his wife. “Narcissa! Keep that thing away from me!”

Narcissa stopped and, with the smallest sigh the only indication of her exasperation, summoned a house-elf. “Merky!” 

The house-elf that appeared intrigued Pof in a way the others hadn’t. The kitten was always fascinated by the large, bulbous eyes and the twitching ears that seemed to exemplify the species. The Malfoy house-elves also seemed to be distinguished by a certain fastidiousness of appearance, suitable to their service in a wealthy household. This house-elf, though, looked… disreputable. The kitten searched his wizard’s memory but decided he’d never seen a house-elf that could be described as, well, shady.

The house-elf, who looked completely out of place in the elegant drawing room, nonetheless bowed with the same deference shown by the other Malfoy elves. “Mistress calls,” he uttered in a low, gravely voice that made the kitten tremble and draw closer to Narcissa.

“Yes, Merky. Were you able to obtain the potion?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Merky rasped, maintaining his low bow.

“Fetch it at once, then, and give it to Master Lucius.” Having given her order, Narcissa moved with the kitten to a comfortable chair beside the fireplace. She had barely settled when the house-elf returned.

Bowing before Lucius, Merky presented a vial upon a silver tray. The potion inside swirled a kaleidoscope of autumn colors. Lucius eyed it skeptically and appeared to be considering if he could get away with ignoring it.

“Take the potion, dear. Merky went to a great deal of trouble to obtain it, I’m sure. Most potions shops were closed when we discovered your… sensitivity to certain creatures.” Narcissa’s posture was relaxed, and the kitten felt nothing but a gentle brushing of her hands through his fur. He couldn’t see the glint in her eyes indicating that refusal to cooperate was not an option – but Lucius could.

In a moment of bravery, or foolishness, he darkly said, “Well I’m certain it would be no trouble at all for Merky to find alternate accommodations for a certain furry creature.” 

A sharp gasp escaped Narcissa, and the kitten bristled and hissed, _“Take that!”_

Lucius inelegantly jumped and clutched his arm where, quite inexplicably, a Stinging Hex seemed to have landed. “Narcissa!” Lucius was clearly appalled at the thought that his own wife had hexed him – and in front of the help! 

_“Don’t blame her! I’m not going anywhere with that house-elf and you can’t make me!”_ Pof really wished Lucius could understand him. He had a thing or two to tell the man! The house-elf in question, however, was – very subtly – eying eyeing him with an interest that made Pof feel decidedly nervous. He really wished Draco would finish his Floo call and return.

Narcissa managed to hide her surprise, but realized at once what had happened – and who had been the perpetrator. “Just take the potion, Lucius,” she said smoothly. “You’re only delaying the inevitable, and your behavior is clearly upsetting dear Puff.”

“Oh well,” Lucius said in clear annoyance, but reaching for the vial, “we wouldn’t want to upset dear Pouf.” He downed the potion and, once he had returned the vial to the tray, Merky popped out.

 _“Watch who you’re calling ‘Pouf’!”_ The kitten cried out in outrage and would have launched himself off Narcissa’s lap had she not restrained him.

“What is going on here?” Draco entered from the hall to find a puffed-up kitten, hissing and spitting, on his mother’s lap. Clearly the small animal was trying to get to Lucius. “What did you do, Father?”

“What? I did nothing.” Lucius was obviously offended. 

_“He called me ‘Pouf’ and wanted that scary house-elf to take me away!”_ The kitten had ceased his efforts to escape from Narcissa and turned expectantly to be taken into the arms of his Draco.

“Father!” Draco said in harsh remonstrance. “You will not harm my kitten!” Gathering the small black animal to him to soothe his distress, he added, “And his name is not Pouf!”

“I did nothing to harm your pet! And your mother has already come to his defense,” Lucius said petulantly as he rubbed again at his arm. “Really, Narcissa, a Stinging Hex? A bit juvenile, don’t you think? And you could have, at the very least, waited until Merky had gone.”

Draco brought the kitten up to his face so that Pof couldn’t fail to see his look of disapproval as he whispered, “Stinging Hex?”

 _“He started it,”_ the kitten meowed in a tone that was a certain harbinger of a sulk.

“We don’t have time for this,” Draco said sternly. Gathering the kitten to him more closely he added, “The call from the Ministry was about Grimmauld Place.”

Pof’s small body stiffened in alarm. _“What’s happened?”_

“What’s happened?” Lucius asked, unaware that he was echoing the kitten’s concerns.

“I don’t have time to tell you everything. I’ve been called in along with all the Obliviators.” Draco pulled the kitten close to his mouth as he bent to whisper, “Can you change back?” 

The kitten turned wide, frightened green eyes up to look into Draco’s face. _“I don’t know. I’m scared, Draco.”_

“What can you tell us, then?” Lucius was concerned, but obviously a little irritated at his son’s evasive comments. 

“Hermione is on her way here. She’ll be able to tell you more once she arrives. Evidently she contacted her supervisor with some questions about Rotting magic. In the course of things, he sent a team to investigate and the result is that all available Obliviators and at least one squad of Aurors are there now trying to contain the situation.”

Lucius’ alarm was genuine when he asked, “Where is Mr. Potter? Has he gone rushing off to the scene? Surely he wouldn’t risk going to Grimmauld Place after all we discussed.”

Knowing that any hesitation would be instantly noticed and viewed with suspicion by his father, Draco quickly answered, “No. He’s working on something else. He knows better than to involve himself with the situation at Grimmauld Place.”

“But what is the situation?” Lucius insisted.

A new voice answered him. “Grimmauld Place is visible to the Muggles,” Hermione said as she stepped into the room and met Narcissa as the older woman rose to embrace her. She exchanged a nod with Lucius before turning to Draco. “You really should go. They’re having a time trying to contain this.”

Draco nodded and once again hugged Pof close and whispered to him. “I have to go. You’ll be safe here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

As he was handed over to Narcissa, the kitten meowed helplessly. _“I’m sorry, Draco! I’m not a brave wizard.”_

Stepping close once more to give the kitten one last reassuring stroke, Draco quietly said, “Yes, you are. But at this moment, it’s okay to just be a kitten. Don’t worry.” With a quick kiss on top of the furry head, Draco hurried from the room.

The room was quiet for a moment before Lucius said, “He is far too attached to that cat.”

Hermione exchanged a look with Narcissa which immediately conveyed that Lucius was unaware of the identity of the cat. Nodding to signal that she understood, Hermione joined Narcissa to sit upon the couch. 

Lucius, having taken the potion and therefore feeling much less wary of the kitten and his dander, eased into a chair close by. “Mrs. Weasley, can you tell us of the state of affairs at Grimmauld Place?” Lucius’s manner was flawlessly polite, as it always was when interacting with Hermione. It was that pure-blood etiquette that he fell back on when uncertain of the appropriate course. 

For Lucius Malfoy, Hermione was a quandary. She was Muggle-born, but a brilliant witch. She had not been raised in the pure-blood society, but moved with confidence and competence in situations that would have befuddled most others of her background. She had every reason to loathe the Malfoy family, but had selflessly taken it upon herself to champion his son when the Wizarding world reviled him for being a member of that family. By so doing, she had managed to help redeem not only Draco, but both Lucius and Narcissa as well. He was undeniably beholden to her and it humbled him. For Lucius Malfoy, humility was something of an alien concept. In truth, he just didn’t do humility well. 

So, whenever he was in Hermione’s company, Lucius tended to be exceedingly formal and painfully polite. An observer might have assumed this was a pure-blood trying to intimidate or distance himself from someone he considered beneath him. Hermione knew, however, that this genuinely ultra-polite behavior was simply his way of showing her respect and appreciation.

“Well, Draco may have mentioned to you that I went to my supervisor, Morton MacRae. This was after I had done some initial research based on the information I received from Draco and Harry. I could find very little about Rotting magic in my own, admittedly modest, library. Since the Department of Mysteries has studied so many different types of magic, I was hoping that I’d find some answers there.”

Pof listened closely from his perch on Narcissa’s lap. He knew that his friend’s “modest” library was the largest room in the home that she and Ron had built after they married. Ron hadn’t hesitated to include the room in the plans, or to allow Hermione to build her catalogue of books. He’d told Harry he had feared he’d never see his wife otherwise.

“And did you find answers there?” Narcissa asked.

“Well, I first had to tell Morton about the evil we’d discovered at Harry’s house when we went there on Friday. They may have told you that I tried to cast some Revealing spells, but I didn’t have time to do much so I wasn’t able to determine anything. Anyway, Morton insisted on going to the house immediately – before I could tell him anything else that might create preconceived notions. I had to go with him because this house is, or was, under Fidelius. We also took Jessamyn Severeid. She used to be a Curse Breaker.” Hermione paused and reached over to pet the little kitten. 

The ‘Harry’ part of Pof recognized the expression on Hermione’s face. He knew she was reluctant to impart news that might distress him. His quiet ‘meow’ was meant to encourage her to continue, though he knew she couldn’t hear anything but kitten noise.

Hermione grimaced, expressing her determination to continue. “When we got there, the others could see the house _before_ I could cast Fidelius.”

“The house was visible?” Lucius asked.

“Not completely,” Hermione said. “At least, not at first. It was shadowy, but considering it shouldn’t have been visible at all, you can imagine our alarm.”

“The decaying process was affecting the magical integrity of the building,” Narcissa said. It was a statement, rather than a question.

“Yes!” Hermione confirmed. “Well, we didn’t know that at first. Morton threw out the idea of worrying about preconceived notions. He sent Jess back to alert MAC and MLE while the two of us tried our best to Disillusion the house. I told him about the Rotting magic curse while we worked on the Disillusionment charms and waited for the others.”

“And he told you there was no way to reverse the curse?” Narcissa’s slight inflection indicated a question, but her face held a certainty of the answer she would hear.

“Yes. Harry told me that you and Mr. Malfoy were going to search your own library for possible information,” Hermione said.

“We did,” Narcissa confirmed. “Nothing we found was at all encouraging. This curse was created to be totally destructive to the targets – both the object and the ‘unworthy.’

“Morton described it as a last desperate move,” Hermione said.

“I suppose one might consider it in that light, although I would be more inclined to term it as determined rather than desperate.” Lucius' tone continued to be polite, but the subtle shift of his posture indicated a slight defensiveness. Even knowing that the curse was virulently evil, there was a part of him, still, that wanted to accept the traditions of his ancestors unquestioningly.

“Semantics,” Narcissa said. “The point is that Walburga has succeeded in destroying one of the most valued possessions of the Black Family, and there is no way to stop it.” She looked down at the small kitten curled upon her lap and combed her fingers through the wild wisps of dark fur. She smiled fondly at him as she said, “At least she didn’t destroy our Harry.”

Pof stretched up into the caress. It was not nearly as comforting as being with Draco, but it still soothed him a bit. He really hoped Draco would return soon. Part of him hoped that Hermione would remember to cast the spell that would allow her to understand him. He could ask questions about Grimmauld Place. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to break the news to Lucius that way…

“What, then, are Draco and the others attempting to do?” Lucius asked. 

“Well, at this point, they’re just trying to minimize the unavoidable breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy,” Hermione explained. “One of the big problems is that it’s Sunday and most of the Muggles are at home. At least if it was a work day, the Aurors could cordon off the area for some kind of ‘emergency’. It would prohibit the people from coming back into the neighborhood. It’s all being compounded by the fact that they don’t know how long it will take the house to complete the decaying process.”

“So they’re uncertain how to gauge the duration of the crisis,” Lucius commented. “That would complicate things.” 

“What do you suppose they will do?” Narcissa continued to stroke the soft fur as she spoke. The kitten was being unusually still and quiet. She knew he was listening to the conversation.

“Well, when I left I think they were considering a mass Obliviation. However, I can’t imagine that they’d actually take such a drastic step.” Hermione frowned. “But – the Disillusionment charms cast on the house are not holding. The house keeps reappearing and more and more of the Muggles are noticing.”

“It’s no wonder, then, they called in so many people to deal with it,” Narcissa said. “Draco told us they called in at least one squad of Aurors in addition to the people in his department.”

“Yes, when I left they were expecting another squad of Aurors to help contain the crowd.” Hermione absently reached over to pat at the little black kitten. Her mind was with her husband and where she probably would have been if she hadn’t been sent to the Manor to update Harry – and the Malfoys – of what was happening to his home. She was looking at the kitten as she stroked the soft fur, but it was obvious that Hermione’s focus was elsewhere at the moment. “But… what can they do? They can’t just wipe out the memories of an entire neighborhood of Muggles.”

With her mind distracted by the problem with Grimmauld Place and her eyes on the kitten, Hermione missed Lucius cocking his head to the side, his expression of genuine bewilderment clearly asking the ‘why not’ that he fortunately refrained from voicing. He turned his look of confusion to Narcissa. His wife gave a small, subtle shake of her head that he took to mean that this was one of those ‘not up for debate’ issues. He sighed resignedly. Sometimes the post-war Wizarding world was just so… scrupulous.

“So the predominant issue at the moment is how to keep the Muggles calm while waiting for the house to collapse in on itself.” Narcissa was clearly turning the matter over in her mind. “That wait time is the crucial element.”

“That’s true,” Hermione agreed. “The longer that takes, the more fallout they have to clear up.”

“Fall out?” Lucius asked. “I don’t know that term, but I think what you’re saying is that the longer this situation continues, the larger the scope of the containment process.”

“Yes,” Hermione concurred. “The ramifications of this incident could be quite serious.”

Pof gave a mew of distress. He knew he hadn’t cast the curse, but his action of removing the portrait had resulted in this disaster. He didn’t know what to do. Another little wail escaped him. He wanted Draco to return!

Evidently Lucius was of a similar mind. “I just wish that the house would finish its death throes so that Draco would return and tend to that animal.”

Narcissa clucked in annoyance and lifted the kitten up to hold close to her. She seemed about to give some sharp response to Lucius when she stopped, clearly considering something. “They need to accelerate the curse,” she said quietly. 

Hermione started. “Of course! Since there’s no way to reverse it, they need to just speed it up. Then they can focus solely on dealing with the Muggles.” She stood as she spoke, excited about the possibility of being able to help. “Surely they’ve already thought of it.”

Narcissa couldn’t help her slight smile as she answered, “Perhaps – but you should probably make certain.”

“You’re right,” Hermione said as she hurried toward the door. She turned back to say a quick good-bye. “Thank you. I’ll let you know something soon.” She had just stepped into the hall when she turned again to say, “Good-bye, Pof. Don’t worry.” And then she was gone.

Lucius grimaced a bit and said, “What precisely would that cat have to worry about?” He folded his arms across his chest and eyed the small creature with some degree of petulance. “Everyone cooing and catering to it,” he mumbled.

“Oh, Lucius,” Narcissa tone was only a little chiding, “surely you’re not jealous of the attention paid to a small kitten?”

“Of course not!” he denied. “It just seems to have wasted no time in making itself exceedingly comfortable in my home. It’s… alarming.”

Narcissa rose, stepping toward him; Lucius appeared fearful that she was going to deposit the kitten in his lap. Instead, she stopped just beside him, the kitten’s wide green eyes regarding him from only inches away. Smiling a bit, she said, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to him.”

 _“Sorry.”_ Pof meowed at him and, despite their earlier confrontation, genuinely meant it – mostly. He was beginning to realize that, the more exposure Lucius had to him as a kitten, the more awkward – and possibly unpleasant – it would be when Harry ‘appeared.’

“Come along,” Narcissa said as she stepped back. “Let’s enjoy a bit of this sunshine ourselves and have lunch in the conservatory.”

Lucius sighed heavily, but stood to join her. “Will the pet be joining us?”

“I’m afraid he will. But we’ll find him a nice patch of sunshine, and he’ll probably fall asleep,” she assured her husband. “You’ll forget he’s even there.”

 _Hmmm… sunshine. I like being warm and snuggly._ The kitten decided that lunch in the conservatory sounded good. Maybe there would be more salmon. _Hmmmm…._

Lucius didn’t look convinced, but gestured for his wife to proceed and followed her from the room. He could hear the kitten purring and tried to believe that the little beast was not, in fact, mocking him.

***=^;^=***

Lunch in the conservatory turned out to be a pleasant affair, as far as Pof was concerned. There had indeed been a tasty dish for him to enjoy and a glorious patch of sunshine to warm him afterwards. Narcissa had even conjured a small, soft blanket for him to snuggle into. 

Despite his very relaxed state, Pof was unable to go to sleep – and he _had_ been trying. Lulled by his warm, comfy spot and the quiet conversation of his hosts, he had decided that a nap would be a very good thing. He had begun to feel that it was past time for him to be his wizard-self again and had been trying to regain that form. Unfortunately, he still seemed unable to work through the process that would transition him from small, black, fluffy and whiskered to tall, two-legged and, well, still a bit wildly fluffy on top.

Since that plan had not worked, Pof decided to try for the only thing that ever had: sleep. Certainly the conditions were right for napping. His worry over Draco and what was going on with Grimmauld Place, however, kept his thoughts and emotions swirling anxiously. So – though his body appeared relaxed, curled into a furry little ball, eyes closed – his mind was still alert and aware of what was going on around him.

He was aware of the house-elf popping in to tell Narcissa she had a Floo call from her sister, Andromeda, and heard her pleased comment. He knew when she left the conservatory to take the call, her shoes clicking quickly across the floor. Then he was aware of utter silence. He had begun to wonder if Lucius had managed to leave as well.

And then he heard movement. For some reason his thoughts turned to Merky, the scary house-elf. He was just formulating a plan to jump up and Apparate away, when a familiar voice stopped him.

“Cat.” Lucius was obviously standing very near. The man gave a heavy sigh and in a somewhat resigned tone of voice, very carefully said, “Good cat.” Another pause, another sigh. “Hello, Draco’s cat. Small cat. Kitten. Kitty.” 

There was another pause, and Pof was fairly certain that the movement he heard now indicated that Draco’s father was kneeling beside him. He held himself very still – uncertain if he should open his eyes to verify this unlikely phenomenon, or if he should continue his pretense of sleep. 

“Narcissa says I must become accustomed to you.” The voice was quiet and thoughtful as Lucius continued. “I try very hard to listen to her these days. So,” he continued after another heavy sigh, “I suppose I must.”

Pof felt a tentative finger stroke ever so lightly through his fur. Lucius Malfoy was petting him. He wondered what kind of kitten noise he would emit if he could not manage to contain the laughter bubbling up inside him. 

“Look at you, though. You’re miniscule. And hopelessly fluffy. Perhaps a good grooming…” Again the finger stroked lightly along his back. “And – what is it that Draco calls you? Pof? What sort of name is that? Well – since Narcissa has her own name for you – I suppose I could as well.” After a moment, the voice continued once more. “I know! I shall call you -”

“Father?” Draco’s voice sounded from the door, startling both Lucius and the kitten.

Pof’s reaction was instantaneous. Finally his Draco had returned. He was almost certain that he could smell the man’s comforting scent despite the distance between them. The desire to wrap himself around Draco and be held in those strong arms was overwhelming. He jumped up from the blanket and, with no apparent thought or effort, morphed seamlessly from the small black kitten to the very happy wizard.

Lucius, having lost his balance when the tiny kitten unexpectedly propelled himself from the blanket and suddenly became Harry Potter, ended up on his arse on the conservatory floor. He sat there, in shock, as he watched the two young men share a most enthusiastic greeting. Peripherally, he registered that Narcissa had re-entered the room and, after pausing to smile happily at Draco and his… Oh, his wife was coming to help him up. How nice.

“Lucius? Darling? Are you alright?” Narcissa took his hand and helped him off the floor. 

“Kitten,” was all Lucius Malfoy managed to say. He blinked a bit at her before turning again to look at the two young wizards.

Narcissa smiled fondly at him and patted his arm. Then she, too, turned toward her son and his young man and sighing happily said, “Yes. Draco and his kitten.”

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Earlier that day, Draco had stood next to Hermione as they, somewhat proudly, surveyed the scene at Grimmauld Square. The small, poorly-kept grass lot in the middle of the square had been the subject of a community revitalization effort. Flower beds had been established, and a water feature had been installed. Benches had been placed around the area, and several of the neighborhood residents had lingered there, congratulating themselves on a job well done – and thanking the city’s crew of volunteers for choosing their square for a community makeover. 

Though Hermione’s boss had already put forward the idea to accelerate the curse by the time she had arrived, and Ron had come up with the solution for the property, the cover had been all Hermione’s. That the Muggles had not questioned the wisdom of establishing a community garden, complete with fountain, at a time of year when it was too late to plant anything was a credit to the skill of the Obliviators in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. 

“Do you think Harry will be alright with what they did with the property?” Draco had asked Hermione as they stood watching the interaction between the Muggles and the ‘Community Makeover Crew’ – which consisted of two squads of Aurors, at least a few Unspeakables, and most of the members of MAC. With the situation largely contained, he had been anxious to get back to Harry and let him know what had happened.

Hermione had looked over to the space where number twelve, Grimmauld Place should have been. There were still residents of the community doing the odd clean-up job at many of the tall houses around the square. Most of the rubbish had been bagged, but – just as many people were doing at houses along the street – the residents of number eleven, Grimmauld Place were touching up paint on their home’s exterior trim. Right next door, at number thirteen, a lamp was being replaced to brighten the area around the front door. 

“I think he will be,” Hermione said. “It’s not… unprecedented.” She had turned to him then and asked, “How much longer do you have to stay?”

Draco had looked over to where his department head, Cygnet Entwhistle, was in conference with fellow department heads Robards and MacRae. “Not much longer, I hope. They know Harry’s at the Manor. I’m only waiting for them to decide if they have any additional messages for him.”

It was just then that the group seemed to finish their discussion, and Draco had seen Cygnet looking around at the crowd. Spotting him, she had called out, “Malfoy!” and gestured him over.

“Finally,” Draco had muttered to Hermione before walking toward the three heads of department.

***=^;^=***

Upon his return to the Manor, Draco had been met by Mimsey, who had directed him to the conservatory. Evidently, that was where the family had taken their midday meal and then continued to relax into the late afternoon. He had indeed found them there and now stood locked in an embrace with a very happy, human wizard.

Harry radiated so much contentment that Draco wondered if the man would purr. He’d wrapped his arms around Draco and, after crashing their lips together in an exuberant kiss, had commenced one of his favorite activities – neck nuzzling. Draco felt full to bursting with contentment himself. He brushed a hand through the wild dark hair, urging Harry’s face up for another kiss. This kiss was softer than the first had been. More about taking time to feel the stroke of lips, the mingling of breath and intimate wishes. If anything else had ever tasted so exquisite, Draco couldn’t remember it. 

A movement to the side reminded the two that they were not alone, and they broke reluctantly from the kiss. Narcissa had entered the room, and Draco was certain he heard her sigh happily as she walked past them. He returned his attention to Harry and tried to smirk but was just too happy to keep it from looking more like a supremely satisfied grin. “You changed back,” he said to the man in his arms.

Harry smiled brilliantly. “I did, didn’t I?” Green eyes, sparkling with unmistakable joy, gazed into Draco’s. “It’s because of you. I saw you there and I just… needed to hold you. As a man,” he explained softly. 

Pale strands of blond hair brushed against dark as the two stood, foreheads together. Draco closed his eyes and reveled in the warm solidity of Harry’s embrace. The man had his own scent – clean, sun-warmed, masculine – and Draco was certain he felt every bit as drawn to it as Harry was to his. “I understand. Holding you as a kitten is a sweet experience,” he said. “Holding you as a man is sweeter.”

One hand slipped into the soft blond hair as Harry once more pressed his lips to Draco’s. This kiss was confident, possessive. Harry knew that Draco was his and at that moment felt none of the self-doubt that had plagued him under the curse. The kiss ended in a soft nip before he pulled back just enough to say, “I was so worried about you and I’d been trying to change back all afternoon.”

“So you could worry about me in human form?” Draco asked, smirking just a bit. Then he saw Harry’s sheepish expression, and the smirk became a grimace. He tightened his hold. “Harry, you couldn’t have gone to Grimmauld Place. It would have been dangerous for you there. You know that.”

A heavy sigh escaped Harry’s lips, and he grimaced a bit as well – though he didn’t try to move out of the embrace. “Yeah, I know. But – it’s hard not to do… something. And you and the others were in danger.”

Draco gave him a peculiar little half-smile. “Well, not really: not like you would have been. The whole thing was just… odd, really.”

Harry cocked his head just a bit to the side, unconsciously mimicking a mannerism of the kitten. “What happened?”

Draco glanced – for the first time – at his parents who still stood just across the room. The couple, arms linked, were watching the two young men as they must have been doing for some time now, he realized. Narcissa was smiling warmly at them as she patted Lucius’ arm from time to time. His father just stared, looking somewhat bemused. He really seemed to be doing that a lot lately, Draco thought. 

It was then that Draco’s mind flashed back to the scene he had encountered upon entering the conservatory. He had found Lucius kneeling on the floor – right beside the place where the kitten must have been before transforming back into a wizard. Turning back to Harry, he asked, “What were you and my father doing when I arrived?”

Mischief – in the form of what Draco thought was an incredibly cute grin – spread across Harry’s face. He glanced quickly back over his shoulder, then whispered, “He was petting me.” His voice was a bit strangled from suppressed laughter. Draco’s widened eyes and his own apparent battle to contain his mirth only made it more difficult for Harry to restrain himself. “We shouldn’t laugh. He was actually making an effort to accept me – or rather Pof.”

“I can’t believe he was petting you.” Draco kept his voice low and tried to hide behind Harry so that his parents couldn’t see the wide grin he could not hold back.

“Well… that’s not all.” Harry then began to tell Draco, stopping a few times when his laughter threatened to escape, about his “conversation” with Lucius. 

Draco said nothing throughout but, by the time Harry was done, tears of laughter stood in his eyes. With tremendous effort, he managed to erase almost all traces of amusement from his expression. Leaning slightly to the side so that he could just see his parents to address them, he very carefully said, “Back in a moment.” 

He took Harry’s arm, and the two young men moved as quickly as they dared from the conservatory. Draco led them into the next room down the hall, where they both collapsed with laughter almost before he had managed to shut the door. They sat on the floor, leaning against one another, gasping for breath. It seemed several minutes had passed before they could finally subdue their merriment enough to draw adequate breath and speak.

“I don’t remember the last time I laughed like that,” Harry said quietly, though his smile was undimmed.

“Before the curse?” Draco asked.

Harry paused for a moment, and then said, “Maybe before the war.” He reached for Draco’s hand and the two sat quietly for a time. The comfort of nearness and trust wrapped around them like a cocoon.

Suddenly, Hinny appeared before them, the pop that signaled his arrival seeming loud in the peaceful silence of the room. “Master Draco,” the house-elf said as he bowed, “Mistress is saying to come to the drawing room – when you are being ready.”

“You may tell her that we will be there soon, Hinny.” Draco knew this was his mother’s way of letting him know that his father had recovered from his shock and was prepared to hear about Grimmauld Place. Of course with what he now knew about the kitten, Lucius would no doubt be expecting some discussion of that as well. Draco only wished his mother had been able to convey some indication of his father’s frame of mind. 

Seeming to sense Draco’s thoughts, Harry asked, “So… how angry do you think Lucius is right now?”

Draco took a deep breath before answering, “Difficult to say. I’m sure he’s more than a little indignant. Probably thinks that we were playing a joke on him.”

“But we weren’t!” Harry said with conviction.

“True, but by now I’m sure he’s aware that he was the last to know. Unfortunately, Father’s sense of paranoia is more finely honed that his sense of humor. He’s going to assume the worst.” Draco slumped a little at Harry’s side, leaning more heavily into him.

Harry slipped his arm around Draco’s shoulders. “Well, I’ll just tell him that it was my fault – that I asked to be the one to explain the kitten situation to him. No sense in him being angry with both of us.”

Draco turned to place a soft kiss Harry’s cheek. “I don’t think it’s going to work that way. I’m sure we’re both in for it. But, on the upside, he never stays angry with me for long.”

“Is there an upside for me?” Harry asked, a hopeful half-smile on his face.

“Of course,” Draco said, smirking in return. “The upside for you is that he was probably much angrier when you freed our house-elf. He really didn’t like you back then.”

A chuckle escaped as Harry asked, “And he likes me now?”

Draco thought about it for a moment. “He doesn’t _want_ to not like you.”

Again Harry cocked his head in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow that.”

Draco scooted closer to Harry, just short of sitting in his lap. “It’s not in his best interests not to like you. You’re the head good guy.”

“Ah,” Harry uttered, understanding completely. Then a thought occurred. “Does that mean it’s not in his best interests to be mad at me?”

The smirk reappeared. “There’s an angle to be played there, certainly. I wouldn’t push that too hard, though. You are going to be seeing more of him now, after all.”

Harry tried for a smirk in return, but it quickly blossomed into a full-blown grin. “As long as I’m going to be seeing more of you as well, I’m okay with that.”

Draco leaned in so that his whispered words tickled Harry’s lips. “I feel quite confident in assuring you that you’ll be seeing every single bit of me very, very soon.”

The sultry timbre of Draco’s voice caused a shiver through Harry’s body. His head dropped to Draco’s shoulder and he breathed in the calming scent. “Don’t say things like that when we’ve got to go talk to your parents.”

“I can’t help myself. I love to watch you blush,” Draco said with an absolutely evil little chuckle. “But you’re right. My parents are waiting to hear what happened at Grimmauld Place.”

“And your father’s waiting to hex my balls off in all likelihood,” Harry muttered.

“Don’t worry.” Draco placed a quick kiss on Harry’s lips and then stood, helping the other man to stand as well. “I’m certain that Mother will have been trying to calm him. Still – it might have been better if you had resisted the urge to zap him with that Stinging Hex earlier.”

“He started it!” Harry echoed the kitten’s words and looked every bit as petulant as he had when furry.

“No need to raise your fur, kitten.” Draco led them out into the hallway, holding Harry’s hand as they made their way toward the drawing room. “The point is – this whole kitten thing, the Stinging Hex – you can’t seem to regret any of it.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Father knows that you’re a decent person and decent people tend to be susceptible to guilt. If he thinks you feel any remorse for… misleading him about your identity – or hexing him – he’s going to use that.”

Harry sighed heavily, a little tired of having to ask for clarification yet again. Would dealing with the Malfoys always be this complicated? “At the risk of sounding like a complete idiot, I have to ask: how would he use that?” 

Draco stopped and looked at Harry in mild exasperation. “Gryffindors,” he breathed. “Think about this, Harry. He’s my father. You, in a manner of speaking, are my suitor.” Draco rolled his eyes at Harry’s grin, a gesture somewhat abrogated by the fact that he was grinning like a loon, as well. “He also knows that you are the kind of man who would prefer to pursue our relationship with the blessing of my family.”

“That’s true,” Harry said, pulling Draco hard against him. “But I wouldn’t let it stop me if I didn’t have it.” The determination in Harry’s eyes made Draco feel a little breathless and the low, possessive tone of his voice pulled something taut in his core. 

Since his voice seemed reluctant to work, it took Draco a moment or two before he could manage to say, “I wouldn’t expect it to.” He closed his eyes and tried to restrain the overwhelming desire to plaster himself against Harry and Apparate with him back to the loft. To hell with discussions of magical curses with his parents. 

“I can do that for you.” 

That provocative voice sounded closer than before, and Draco opened his eyes to find Harry’s gaze smoldering and fastened on his mouth. “Do what…?” Draco wasn’t really sure what he was asking.

“Bite that bottom lip of yours.” Harry’s hand slipped up to cup Draco’s cheek, his thumb stroking softly across the bottom lip Draco hadn’t realized he’d been biting. “Have I told you how much I love your mouth? Drives me mad sometimes… ” Harry’s hand tangled in the blond hair, pulling Draco’s mouth that small remaining distance to meet his. 

The world was just the two of them again. Harry made good on his suggestion and raked his teeth across Draco’s lips, then soothed them with strokes of his own warm mouth. Finally, he fit them together and Draco sighed helplessly at the feel of Harry’s lips pressed so perfectly against his. 

Draco’s mouth was fast becoming one of Harry’s favorite places to be. His lips were soft and deliciously full, and Harry couldn’t get enough of how they felt against his mouth. Or his throat. Or his cock. Draco was a beautiful man, but that sexy mouth was a special temptation.

Once more the pop of house-elf Apparition intruded cruelly upon a moment that had been shaping up to be well worth the risk of making Lucius Malfoy wait. Harry actually growled in frustration, and Hinny jumped in fear at the sound of it.

The poor, frightened creature could barely manage to explain the reason for his presence. “M-Mr. Ha- arry P-P-Potter… owl!” The little elf squeaked as Harry took the scrolled parchment he held out and disappeared without waiting to be dismissed.

Draco’s eyebrow rose as he folded his arms across his chest. “Harry Potter – terrorizing house-elves. I am appalled.”

Harry looked immediately contrite – then rolled his eyes when he noticed the hint of a smirk that Draco was trying to suppress. “I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled as he broke the seal on the parchment.

The Gringotts’ seal had been easily recognizable, but Draco didn’t try to glimpse the contents of the missive. Business was sacred to the Malfoys and he would not pry into Harry’s – despite the fact that Harry’s expression of surprise had him dying of curiosity to know what was contained in the official-looking document. 

Harry sighed heavily and re-rolled the parchment. “Well, I guess we might as well get this over with.” He held out his hand to Draco, and they resumed their trek toward the drawing room at the other end of the house.

They had walked in silence since the kiss, but once outside the drawing room Draco turned to Harry. “Remember – show no weakness.” Then, holding his hands up in an imitation of kitten claws added, “Paws of Fury!”

Of course this meant that, as Draco dragged him into the drawing room, Harry was chuckling. He wondered if that had been Draco’s plan, because he was sure that he didn’t appear remorseful or worried with a big, stupid grin on his face.

Narcissa was smiling too, so that was nice. Lucius, however, was watching Harry with that blank mask in place. Well, not completely blank this time. Unintentionally or not, a very cold, piercing gaze pinned him. It was at this point that Harry realized he was going to have to rethink his approach with Lucius Malfoy.

To begin with, he needed to stop thinking of Lucius as Draco’s father. Draco was right: that would put him in the vulnerable position of trying to win approval. Harry had been truthful when he told Draco that he’d pursue their relationship whether he had the Malfoys’ approval or not. Still, his preference would be to have the blessing of Draco’s parents, and it was too early to give up hope of that yet. 

At this moment, however, the objective had to be getting that cold as the grave stare to thaw a bit. It wasn’t as if he’d never been on the receiving end of that kind of look before. Anyone who’d ever sat down across an interrogation table from a person furious at being brought in for questioning had to develop a thick skin. Harry was good at interrogation – getting answers or cooperation without overt intimidation. Perhaps if he applied that skill here – put himself in the mindset of an Auror going in to deal with an angry person with possible connections to criminal activity… Oh. Yes, well – this might be easier than he thought. 

With Lucius and Narcissa seated on the couch, Harry was separated a bit from Draco since they had to sit in chairs opposite the elder Malfoys. He vaguely wondered if that had been intentional on Lucius’ part, or if Narcissa was simply keeping Lucius within easy reach. Regardless, there was no reason to delay further, so Harry jumped right in.

“Mr. Malfoy, before Draco tells us what happened with Grimmauld Place, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please allow me to apologize for not making you aware of the fact that I am sometimes the small black kitten you’ve seen here within the past couple of days.”

Harry didn’t need to look over at Draco to know that he was probably coming unglued at the fact that his advice had just been completely ignored. Totally at odds with Draco’s suggestion for dealing with Lucius, Harry had just apologized. As predicted, that man looked as if Harry had just signed himself over for a lifetime of servitude.

Much as he wanted to know Draco’s reaction, Harry continued to maintain eye contact with Lucius when he said, “It’s my fault entirely that you weren’t informed earlier. I begged Draco to let me be the one to discuss my… condition. What with things coming to a head at Grimmauld Place, though, I felt that the focus had to be there.” Then, wearing his most sincere expression, Harry blinked his big green eyes and said, “Draco told me you were quite shocked when I transformed in front of you. I imagine it was quite a surprise. I mean, one moment I was a sleeping kitten, then next I was, well, _me_. When Draco’s voice woke me – when I realized he’d returned – I was just so relieved. I jumped up to meet him and transformed to my human self.” Harry glanced quickly at Draco before turning back to Lucius to add, “That’s never happened before, you realize. I’ve never been able to intentionally return to human form while awake.”

“Oh, of course,” Narcissa said, subtly inserting herself into the conversation. “Do you suppose you were able to regain your human form because you had been sleeping just before Draco returned?”

Oh, Narcissa was good. She had cottoned onto Harry’s effort to convince Lucius that he had been asleep during the whole petting incident. He assumed Lucius must have told her something about it – probably in a rant over the humiliation of being found petting his son’s boyfriend. Harry could have kissed her for coming to his assistance. He was still a bit afraid to look in Draco’s direction; he wasn’t sure if any help would be coming from that quarter. 

With deliberate enthusiasm, Harry answered Narcissa. “I was wondering about that, yes. On the one hand, I believe it was Draco’s voice and my excitement over his return that caused me to be able to change as soon as I woke. But I did wonder if the fact that I was asleep just before that facilitated the change this time.” Finally daring to turn to his boyfriend, Harry asked, “What do you think, Draco?”

What did he think?? _I think you’re lucky I don’t fucking hex your Gryffindor arse._ What happened to being strong and unremorseful, not giving Lucius the upper hand? What was all this begging forgiveness and self-blame? _Never take the blame, idiot!_ What did he think? 

“I think that makes perfect sense,” Draco said aloud in a calm, even warm, tone of voice. _Unlike totally disregarding perfectly fucking sound advice for dealing with my father. Idiot!_

Harry smiled winningly at Draco though he was quite sure – despite the man’s seemingly supportive comment and pleasant demeanor – he’d be catching a fair amount of hell once they were alone. Perhaps he should have found that troubling. But – after years of being alone and now, finally, having secured Draco’s affections – all he could really think was ‘make-up sex!’ That just made his smile even broader.

“That’s what I thought!” Harry said. Turning back to Lucius, he added, “I just couldn’t bear to be the kitten any longer – not while Draco and the others were facing the danger of the Rotting magic. Since I still wasn’t able to make myself transform, I decided to take a nap. For some reason, I’ve only been able to become human again while I’m asleep. So that’s what I was doing when Draco returned. Sleeping.”

Draco was unsure how he managed to keep from rolling his eyes. Could Harry be any more obvious? Though, admittedly, it appeared to be working if the still slightly skeptical but speculative look on Lucius’ face was anything to go by. But wasn’t that a travesty as well? Potter puts forth his weak little fiction, and Lucius almost immediately capitulates. Truthfully, he didn’t know who he was more disgusted with. Harry – for completely ignoring his perfectly good advice on how to deal with Lucius. Or Lucius who, apparently, wasn’t even going to make Harry sweat over whether this ploy was working or not. Draco didn’t believe for a minute that his father was really unaware of this blatant attempt to manipulate him. No self-respecting Slytherin would ever fall for something so… Gryffindorish.

But all of that was beside the point, damn it! Harry had disregarded Draco’s instructions completely and then it was all that sickeningly innocent ‘Oops! Sorry! Yes I was the kitten but due to my oh-so-convenient catnap I didn’t notice you down on the floor making an idiot of yourself.’ He’d even batted his fucking eyes. Unfuckingbelievable!

“Well this is an encouraging development then,” Narcissa said. “It would seem that you’ve gained control over this other curse.”

Lucius had sat quietly during Harry’s explanation. Though he allowed certain reactions to show, he’d held his tongue as Harry had made his apology and described the significance of the breakthrough. When he finally spoke, it was obvious from his tone and manner that he had chosen to go along with the version of events Harry had provided. “One cannot be too sure with curses, Narcissa. I’ll have to hear more of this to determine if there is a way to help Mr. Potter with this… kitten situation.”

Harry didn’t have to feign relief. Apparently Lucius had decided to accept the whole ‘sleeping kitten’ scenario. He didn’t really believe he was good enough at fabrication to actually convince Lucius Malfoy of anything, so he was sure that Lucius was – for whatever reason – choosing to play along. Maybe he really didn’t want to risk Harry’s displeasure; maybe he was simple choosing the most expedient face-saving option; maybe Narcissa had threatened to go all Death Eater on his arse if he didn’t play nice. Harry didn’t care; he was just glad that his gambit had worked.

“That’s what we were hoping for,” Harry told him. “That you and Mrs. Malfoy might have some knowledge of the magic involved. I just wanted to deal with one thing at a time.”

Draco decided he’d had enough of the discussion of anything kitten related, so he was more than ready to proceed with recounting the situation at Grimmauld Place. “Yes – why don’t we continue in that vein? If we can put the kitten issue aside for the moment, I’ll tell you what happened with the Black house and property. If you’re ready…”

“Absolutely!” Harry was indeed anxious to hear what had happened. Now that he felt reasonably confident that Lucius had been pacified, he was very eager to learn what had happened with the Rotting magic curse. “Please tell us.”

Big green eyes filled – genuinely this time – with sincerity gazed at him, and Draco felt his heart constrict a bit in spite of his displeasure with Harry. He’d expected Harry to be sitting there congratulating himself over the success of his stupid ploy. Instead he was beaming at Draco with trust and affection and being so… Harry. Draco released a heavy sigh. 

“Well, the house is gone. It disintegrated completely,” Draco began. Harry’s eyes widened a bit and he heard a soft gasp from Narcissa.

“In the full view of the Muggles?” Lucius said with some alarm.

“No,” Draco reassured him. “That was taken care of fairly early on. Actually, by the time I arrived at the square, Cygnet had seen to it that an illusion had been cast around the immediate area of the house significantly limiting the number of Muggles who could see what was going on.”

“But Hermione said the Disillusionment charms she and MacRae had cast wouldn’t hold,” Harry said.

“That’s because they cast them on the house itself. Cygnet Disillusioned the area around the property,” Draco explained – a hint of pride in his voice that his department head had been able to achieve a solution to the problem.

“What about the Muggles who had already seen what was happening?” Harry asked.

“They were happy to tell the Aurors – whom they presumed to be agents of some Muggle government agency – their theories on hauntings, beings from ‘outer space,’ and other ideas dealing with time and space. The Aurors then introduced them to “experts” on whatever theory they espoused and we – the “experts” – had an opportunity to make some modifications in their perceptions.”

“You Obiviated them?” This time it was Lucius who asked. 

“We did get rid of the memory of the house appearing out of nowhere. There wasn’t really much else we could do about that.” Draco looked at Harry, wondering what his reaction would be to that.

Harry sighed a bit but gave a small nod. “I don’t imagine Hermione was very happy about it.” Harry knew that she disapproved of the idea of using mind modification except in the most dire of circumstances: protecting one’s parents from insane, Muggle-killing snake men being one example. Evidently someone in charge at the scene had decided the situation with the number twelve, Grimmauld Place was another. 

“She made a point of verbalizing her concern. Truthfully though, even Hermione has begun to realize that sometimes such measures are unavoidable – especially when the statute of secrecy is compromised.” Draco gave a slight shrug. “She really wasn’t part of that decision anyway. This was largely an MLE/MAC operation. The Unspeakables were only involved because MacRae had been the one to discover the situation when he went with Hermione to investigate the evil at the house.”

“Did they listen to her suggestion to accelerate the curse?” Narcissa asked.

Draco smiled. Hermione had told him it was his mother who had originally voiced the idea of speeding up the curse. “Actually, by the time Hermione arrived back at Grimmauld Place, one of the other Unspeakables - Jessamyn something - had already suggested it. Evidently she’d been a Curse Breaker before coming to the Department of Mysteries. She seemed to be the most familiar with Rotting magic. MacRae took the idea to Cygnet and Robards, and they all agreed that it was the only real option.”

“So… what happened when they accelerated the curse?” Harry asked quietly. He was having difficulty with this discussion of the destruction of his home. Although he had never really felt totally at ease at Grimmauld Place, he did have an undeniable connection to it. The fact that it no longer existed just didn’t seem real to him yet.

Harry hadn’t looked at Draco when he asked that question. He’d almost seemed a little afraid to ask. Draco reached over to take Harry’s hand and was gratified when he lifted his gaze and tried to smile. “It worked as anticipated. The house… I guess I had expected it to turn to ash and crumble – like the image in your nightmare. Instead, it… darkened, turned completely black. You know – like a piece of parchment, burning in a fire. And, just like burning parchment, tiny charred fragments broke off as the wind blew across it.”

“But couldn’t the Muggles see that as well?” Lucius asked.

“You’d think that. But the fragments disappeared as soon as the wind caught them. Instead of floating off, as would have happened if something solid was burning, the little fragments just vanished. It was as if someone had cast Evanesco.”

“The house is completely gone?” It was Narcissa who asked this question. When she received a nod from Draco in confirmation, she closed her eyes for just a moment. When she reopened them she asked, “So… the Black family magic… all remnants are gone?”

Draco frowned a bit. “The house is gone, yes, with any trace of magic that was a part of it. However, the property itself is still magical.”

“Magical property? Do you mean like earth magic?” Harry asked. Magical places had always intrigued Harry. When Hogwarts had fought the compulsion for him, he had experienced the magic of the place in a completely different way. There had been a hint of a feeling that the school’s magic went beyond the actual building. 

“There is magic in the earth, the land,” Draco verified Harry’s thought. “Most magical dwellings or towns are built upon places where the earth’s magic is strong.”

“Malfoy Manor is an example,” Lucius added. “My ancestors chose this location because the land was replete with magic. There are those among us who have always had a special talent for sensing the pockets of magic within the earth.”

Harry nodded his understanding. The topic fascinated him, and he knew he would take the time to find out more about it. This was not the time for that, though. “So now that the house is gone, is there just an empty lot there?”

“Empty but for the magic, I suppose,” Draco said. “That was our next problem. We had to decide what to do about the fact that there was now an empty place between two houses.”

“I suppose even the Muggles would notice that,” Lucius said. He at least had the good grace to cough self-consciously when Harry, Draco, and Narcissa all gave him identical looks of censure. “I just suppose that was very noticeable,” he added hoping he’d re-phrased his comment in a way that didn’t sound derogatory toward the damned Muggles.

“It was. Or would have been,” Draco corrected himself. “Ron Weasley came up with a solution for it though.”

Harry perked up a bit at this news, wondering what solution Ron had devised. He was really proud to have Ron as his best mate. There were still people who saw him only as Harry’s sidekick, but that was not true among their co-workers. Ron was really very adept at reasoning through problems and puzzling things out. “What was his solution?”

Once more Draco reached over to take Harry’s hand, not knowing for certain how he would respond to this news. “Well, it’s an idea he got from Godric’s Hollow,” he said, watching for Harry’s reaction. When Harry continued to just look steadily at him, Draco continued. “I haven’t been there, but, since the war, we’ve all heard about the memorial statue of your family that appears only when magical folk approach it.”

Harry nodded. “My parent’s property, too. The house – or what’s left of it – is invisible to Muggles. Only magical beings can see it.” Harry’s brow furrowed a bit. “Are you saying that the Muggles can’t see the empty lot?”

“That’s it exactly. The empty lot is there. Magical people can see it. To the Muggles, though, it just looks the same as it always has. They had never seen number twelve, Grimmauld Place. They were accustomed to number eleven being right next to number thirteen, and that’s what they continue to see.” 

“It’s so simple,” Narcissa said quietly. She seemed to ponder it for a moment before continuing. “But what if someone just walks through it?”

Draco shook his head. “A Muggle-Repelling charm. Certainly, Hermione and her colleagues did something to make it stronger, more durable, but it’s really just that very basic spell to make Muggles avoid the area.”

“Well done,” Lucius said. “Truly, well done.”

“What about the ‘fallout’ as Hermione called it,” Narcissa asked. “How much of a disturbance did this incident create in the neighborhood?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” Draco said, grimacing. “Even with the Disillusionment of the area around the house, and the initial modifications we had already done with the Muggles who had actually seen the house appear, we had our hands full once the house was taken care of.”

“What do you mean?” Harry was feeling less ill at ease now. The house was gone and with it the danger of any compulsions or malignant poisoning of his soul. He tightened his hold on Draco’s hand, pleased to have this indication of his affection.

“The activity drew more people out of their homes. Everyone wanted to know what was happening: why there was a large group of strangers hanging about their neighborhood. We had to come up with a plausible story for them.” A slow grin spread across Draco’s face. “Hermione came up with the solution to this problem.”

Once more cocking his head in the manner of the kitten, Harry asked, “What was it? Must have been something unusual, to make you smile like that.”

Draco turned to his parents before answering. “I know the two of you haven’t been there for a number of years. Harry will tell you that the neighborhood is not kept up. There’s not a house on the square that didn’t need some repair: paint, windows, or just general clean up.”

“That’s true,” Harry said. “I’m sure that ages ago it was a very good neighborhood, but now it’s fairly rundown. The square itself is just a small patch of grass, usually overgrown.”

Smirking, Draco said, “Not anymore. Hermione borrowed an idea from a program on Muggle television. With the help of magic, of course, we convinced the residents that we were there because someone in their neighborhood had written in to request a community makeover.”

“Makeover?” Narcissa asked, eyes twinking. 

“Yes. A 'spruce up the neighborhood' kind of thing. We suggested to them – in a way only an Obliviator can – that we were volunteers, organized by the government to help people beautify their neighborhoods. They were told that one of their neighbors had written an impassioned letter pointing out that the hardworking people of Grimmauld Square deserved a little beauty in their lives, and we were moved to assist.” Turning to Harry he said, “You’ll really have to go back there sometime to have a look. You won’t recognize the place.”

Harry laughed a bit. “Sounds as if you worked quite a little miracle.”

Draco gave a small shrug. “It’s not too hard when you’ve got three of the most powerful departments of the Ministry working together like that. Anything can happen.”

Lucius sat forward a bit. “I’m very pleased, Draco, that you are a member of one of those departments and contributed to the resolution of this incident.” He looked from one young man to the other, his expression clearly indicating that, with that resolution to Rotting magic curse, he was ready to address other matters. “Mr. Potter, I would now like to have the details of the circumstances that led to your intermittent feline state. Additionally, I would like to inquire regarding your intentions toward my son.” 

Harry could tell by the smug expression on Lucius’ face that he’d been just waiting to spring that question on Harry. Obviously he was trying to put Harry on the spot: a little payback for the petting incident. Further proof, to Harry’s thinking, that he had only played along with the ‘sleeping kitten’ fiction for his own purposes.

Harry shifted in his seat a bit, mind working frantically to come up with some proper, suitable response to Lucius' question about his intentions toward Draco that didn’t include the words ‘fuck senseless.’ That was certainly none of Lucius’ business, anyway. Harry had intentions beyond that, of course. He just hadn’t been expected to verbalize them at this point – at least not to anyone but Draco. Clearly, stalling was in order. The obvious tactic for that was the kitten issue. 

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, if I may begin with my 'intermittent feline state'. It all started the day of that explosion in Diagon Alley…”

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Draco sat quietly as Harry described his encounter with the old woman the day of the explosion. Lucius and Narcissa listened intently as Harry recounted the details they had discovered about that fateful meeting once they were able to review his memory in the Pensieve. His parents were obviously interested in the incident, but neither gave any indication that they might know anything about the magic the old woman had used.

Though he doubted anyone outside the family would have recognized it, Draco could see that his father was a bit discomfited when Harry began to relate what they had learned from McGonagall regarding his kitten state. Hopefully, just as Narcissa had been, Lucius would feel somewhat mollified to know the extent to which the kitten’s personality dominated Harry during his furry moments. 

Harry spoke quite calmly about the whole affair, relating the details in the manner of an Auror reporting the facts of a case. Draco wondered if he realized he was doing that. He caught himself just beginning to smile and stopped himself. He was still irritated at Harry – wasn’t he? Well, perhaps he was not quite as unhappy with Harry as he had been. Frankly it was difficult to stay angry with the man. Still, Harry would have to understand that Draco had been… well, offended by Harry’s easy disregard for his opinion. That would never do. It was clear that he would need to establish some relationship guidelines for Harry.

“Draco? Don’t you agree?”

His attention caught, Draco turned to find a gentle smile on Harry’s face. Then Harry cocked his head in the same manner as the tiny black kitten, and Draco melted a little inside. 

“Agree?” he asked, realizing Harry had been trying to ask him a question. He had no idea what the question was, but he seriously doubted it was at all related to ‘relationship guidelines.’

“Yes. That the magic that the old woman used didn’t really seem like a curse.” Harry was obviously repeating himself for Draco’s benefit.

“I definitely agree,” Draco asserted. “The words she spoke toward the end seemed intended to offer hope. And being in kitten form has seemed comforting to you.” 

“Yes,” Harry said quietly, his gaze turned downward. “And… I’ve needed that.” He seemed to shiver a bit and, without saying a word further, stood and walked over to the fireplace. 

The weight of the events of the past few days seemed to descend upon him all at once. Clutching his arms about himself, Harry stared down into the fire and tried not to let his emotions overwhelm him. He’d been targeted, for good or ill, by the mysterious magic of an equally mysterious old woman. Magical forces had battled inside of him. And though he still felt a spark of the power of Hogwarts, he could sense even now the malignant evil of the Rotting magic. Grimmauld Place had been completely destroyed, leaving not even crumbled remains such as those that still marked the property where his parents had died in Godric’s Hollow. Though he’d been relieved at the thought that he’d never have to return to that dark place, he felt the loss like that of an old adversary whose existence had been tangled up with his own. Harry clearly recognized that emotion: one he’d felt only once before.

Strong arms wrapped around him as Draco hugged him from behind. “I’m here, kitten,” he whispered into Harry's ear. “Here to save you. Calm you. Love you.”

Harry turned in Draco’s arms and let himself be engulfed by the warm embrace, comforted by that soul-healing scent. “Love you,” he repeated in a breath against Draco’s throat.

Draco held Harry close, hoping the embrace would convey all he was feeling. Hoping that what he was feeling would be what Harry needed. Time became irrelevant again, so Draco wasn’t sure how much had passed before he felt Harry shift in his arms. Big green eyes gazed at him, and Harry’s sweet mouth curled into a small, soft smile.

“Thank you,” Harry said. “I’m okay now.”

“Good,” Draco said, brushing a soft kiss across Harry’s lips. “Let’s go home.” His heart sped at the way Harry’s face brightened at the suggestion. 

Harry, smile growing, nodded and withdrew from Draco’s arms. He didn’t move too far away, though, and took Draco’s hand in his. The two young men turned, walking toward the door of the drawing room, seemingly oblivious to the two other occupants of the room.

When it became obvious that Draco and Harry were not going to stop even long enough to say farewell, Lucius stood quickly. “Mr. Potter,” he called out. Harry stopped and turned to face him. Lucius paused just long to give the impression that he was in control of the situation and then said, “Your intentions regarding my son?”

Harry didn’t look at Lucius when he gave his answer. Instead he turned to look steadily into Draco’s eyes. “Are honorable,” was all he said, and then turned again to walk with Draco from the room.

***=^;^=***

With a soft pop of Apparition, the two young wizards appeared in the alleyway near Draco’s building. They had Apparated Side-Along since Harry – a kitten the only other time he’d been here – had been uncertain of the destination. They were pleased to find it was not raining in London at the moment, though the air had a definite chill to it. It was a convenient excuse to extend the embrace a few moments more.

“Come on,” Draco said finally, taking Harry’s hand. “I know a better place for this.”

They made their way in comfortable silence from the alley to Draco’s building. While waiting for the lift, they once again met the same Muggle woman who had spoken to Draco the day he’d brought the “stray” kitten home. As before, she greeted him cheerfully, looking speculatively at Harry and smiling at their joined hands.

Draco quirked a grin and said, “I’m keeping this one.” Harry rolled his eyes, but was also grinning as he pulled Draco into the lift.

“Have you ever had sex in a lift?” Draco asked, pressing Harry against the wall of the lift as they felt it pitch slightly and begin to move.

“It’s on my to-do list,” Harry told him, grinning.

“Really? Well, I’ll be happy to help you with that.” Draco smirked and then stole a quick kiss just as the lift chime sounded indicating they’d reached their floor.

“You’re so helpful,” Harry said, once more grabbing Draco’s hand and leading the way to the loft.

Once at the door, Draco whispered a word to open it. It had barely opened before he was pushing Harry inside. He then spun Harry’s body and used it to close the door, pressing the other man against it with his own body. They stood, flush against each other, smiling. “Welcome home, Harry.” 

Their lips met softly, but deliberately. A kiss to seal a bargain. To consecrate a promise. It might have lasted longer, but Harry’s mouth curled helplessly into a smile, making it difficult to maintain the kiss.

Draco didn’t seem to mind. Smiling in return, he moved back and, taking Harry’s hand, pulled him toward the living area of the large open room. They collapsed together on the couch and relaxed a moment, taking in the comfort of their surroundings and letting the non-stop activity of the past few days ease away. Harry let out a rather large sigh, and Draco turned toward him.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked.

Harry turned toward him. “I am. It’s just been a busy weekend.”

“And here I thought Weasley was the master of understatement,” Draco teased as he squeezed Harry’s hand. Harry shook his head a bit, but smiled. Draco’s voice was softer when he added, “At least we’ve put some things to rest. No more compulsion, no more curse to poison you.”

Harry pulled Draco’s hand up to place a kiss upon it. “You really did save me, you know. You were the one who recognized the Rotting magic. If we hadn’t been together…”

“And we have your old lady friend to thank for that. You’d still be pining away for me, content to suffer in silence, if she hadn’t turned you into a kitten who can’t resist me.” The smirk was out in full force.

“I think it’s you who can’t resist the kitten,” Harry said, returning the smirk. Then he sobered and let out another sigh. “I’ve enjoyed being the kitten, but there’s still the issue of my job. I’m hoping, now that I’ve been able to change back into myself, Robards will let me come back – even though I still turn furry. I guess I need to go talk to him about it again.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Draco said, sitting up. “I can’t believe I forgot. I’ve got messages for you from the department heads.”

“Who?” Harry asked, sitting up as well. 

“Well, Robards, of course. And Morton MacRae of Mysteries. And Cygnet – my department head.”

“Messages from all three?” Harry asked, grimacing. “This doesn’t bode well.”

“No, it’s fine, I think. MacRae wants to talk to you about the Rotting magic. As far as they know, you’re the only one who has ever survived the destruction of the cursed object.”

Harry sighed with resignation. “You know, it would not bother me in the least to never, ever again be the ‘only one’ about anything.”

Draco combined the smirk with an eyebrow lift this time as he slipped his arm around Harry and drew him close. “Does that mean you don’t want to be the only one I want to sink my hard cock into?”

Chuckling and rolling his eyes, Harry said, “You’re so good at that.”

Draco grinned wickedly. “Thank you for that vote of confidence.” Then something seemed to occur to him that caused a frown. “Wait – what have you heard?”

Harry chuckled again. “No. I mean you’re good at distracting me.”

“Oh, that. Of course. If you’d been talking about the other, ‘good’ wouldn’t have been nearly an adequate term.” 

Harry laughed and placed a quick kiss on Draco’s cheek. “No doubt. Now, what about the other messages?”

“Well, Robards did say he wanted to talk to you again about your work situation.” Seeing the hopeful gleam in Harry’s eyes, Draco hastened to add, “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, if I were you. I think it had more to do with discovering that it was the Rotting magic curse that was affecting your work relationships. But this will be a good opportunity for you to update him on the kitten situation. The fact that you can now change into the kitten at will – and that you’ve been able to successfully change from kitten to human – is something he needs to know.”

Harry nodded his head, but didn’t say anything for a moment. Another sigh and then, “And Entwhistle? What does your department head want?”

Draco seemed a little hesitant. “Actually, she’d like to see the Pensieve memory to observe how the woman seemed able to interfere with the mediwizard and affect your perception. As a matter of fact, all three of them want to view the memory.”

Harry slumped back against the couch and closed his eyes. Only a few minutes before, he had begun to feel that things had been resolved, that all this turmoil was settling down. Now he was going to be expected to spend who knew how many hours or possibly days rehashing it all. Being questioned and prodded about things he probably had no answers for. And again, the memory would be on display. People watching as he was brought down by an old woman – judging him, criticizing him.

“Harry, it will be alright.” Draco’s voice was soft and filled with reassurance, but Harry couldn’t accept it.

Sitting up abruptly, he glared at Draco. “Easy for you to say.” Harry’s voice was filled with bitterness. “You’re not the spectacle. You’re not the freak!”

“Neither are you.” Draco managed to keep from shouting in return because he knew it would only cause Harry’s anger to escalate. His mother told them the poisonous effects of the Rotting magic would not instantly dissipate with the destruction of Grimmauld Place. Harry’s emotional state would continue to be affected for some time to come. “This is the effect of the curse talking, Harry. It’s using your insecurities against you. Don’t let it! You are not a freak. You are a brave, incredibly powerful wizard. You’d be dead by now if that wasn’t the absolute truth.”

Draco saw the anger in Harry’s eyes falter minutely. He slumped forward, his face in his hands. His shoulders rose and fell with the deep breaths he took. Draco hoped he was trying to calm himself, but he wasn’t sure if that was the case. He waited silently as Harry wrestled with his anger, hoping he was making the right choice. Slowly, Harry’s breathing seemed to even out. Draco watched as at least some of the tension eased from Harry’s body. Finally he heard a muffled, “I’m sorry.”

Draco reached for Harry’s hands, pulling them away from his face. A hand under Harry’s chin lifted his head and turned him to face Draco once more. “We’ll deal with this. The curse is gone. It’s only a matter of time before this… venom is gone as well.” He softly caressed Harry’s cheek and was relieved when Harry turned his face into it. “I’ll help you. I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

Harry placed his hand over Draco’s, holding it against his cheek for a moment. Then he moved forward to bury his face against Draco’s throat, filling himself with the contentment he always found there. “I need you,” he whispered.

They sat that way for what must have been a long time. Finally, Harry lifted his head away from Draco and sat back. His expression was very somber, his eyes large with uncertainty. “Will you come with me? When I meet with them?”

“Of course.” Draco’s answer was immediate. He’d worry about work later. He felt fairly certain that, as long as he filed his reports on the situation with Grimmauld Place, Cygnet would give him the time he needed to be with Harry while he met with the different departments. “Remember, Harry, they want to help you. And with their positions and experience, it’s very possible they can.”

“I know you’re right,” Harry said. “I’m just ready to be done with it.”

Draco decided this might be a good time to employ those mighty powers of distraction Harry seemed convinced that he possessed. He put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him back to settle against the couch. When they were comfortably snuggled, Draco brushed a kiss against Harry’s ear and enjoyed the resulting shiver. In a voice low and sultry he murmured, “So… your intentions are honorable?”

Harry started a bit, clearly not expecting this change of topic. Recognizing that Draco was teasing him, he decided to do a little teasing as well. “Some of them.”

Draco lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “And the others?”

“Involve a great deal of nudity, lubricant, and… maybe not… well, OK… um, no… oh, alright – rimming! Nudity, lubricant and rimming.” Harry nodded to indicate his certainty.

Draco half-grinned as he asked, “You had to think about rimming?”

“I didn’t _have_ to think about it. I like thinking about it -”

“No, idiot.” Draco's voice held a definite hint of laughter. “I mean, you had to think about whether or not your intentions involved rimming?”

“Oh! No,” Harry was quick to assure him. “Rimming is a definite intention. I just didn’t know if I should surprise you. Or warn you.”

Draco placed a soft kiss on Harry’s temple. “I like surprises. And the only time to you need to warn me is if it will involve pain or animals.”

Harry turned to look at him, eyes a little wide. “Pain or… animals?”

Harry looked so damn cute, but Draco decided to reassure him. “Pain we can work with. Animals are a deal-breaker.”

Obviously somewhat relieved, Harry said, “Must admit I’m pleased to hear that.”

Draco nuzzled Harry’s ear, then nipped it gently before whispering, “So glad. Now – tell me more about these intentions of nudity, lubricant, and rimming.”

Harry shivered again and leaned his head to the side a bit to give Draco better access to the neck he seemed intent upon kissing. “You really want to hear more? Mmm… I can do that. Must admit I’m a bit relieved. I was a little worried you were going to light into me the minute we walked in the door.”

“Hmmm?” Draco sort of answered around the neck kisses, obviously concentrating on his task as he began to work at the fastening of Harry’s robes.

Harry’s response came out a little breathlessly. Draco's mouth was making concentration difficult for him as well. “Um… yeah. You know… for apologizing to your dad.”

The lips against his throat stilled. The hand that had been working to remove his robe now pressed against his chest as Draco sat back to look at Harry. Those eyes shown with a frosty glint that Harry, unfortunately, recognized. Draco Malfoy was not happy.

“I’d forgotten,” Draco said – the flat, quiet tone causing Harry to shiver for a new reason.

Harry curled his hand around the one now pressing somewhat painfully into his chest. He gave Draco what he hoped was a winning smile and said, “Well, no need to discuss that now. Not when we can be talking about nudity.” Harry watched Draco’s eyes narrow. “Or lubricant…” Then there was a twitch of the jaw. “Or, um… rimming?” He was so screwed. 

Draco pushed away from Harry and stood up. He didn’t move away from the couch but instead stood, arms folded tightly across his chest, looking pointedly at Harry. “You disregarded my advice.”

“Um… yeah.” Harry couldn’t decide if he should stand up to face Draco or if it would be less provocative to stay seated. He was really hoping that he could move Draco past this little issue before it gathered steam. “But it worked out, right?”

Draco spoke slowly, coldly. “You completely disregarded my advice. As if my opinion doesn’t matter.”

Harry shot up off the couch. “Of course your opinion matters. I love your opinions. I just… I just got in there and… he looked so cold, Draco. Kind of like you’re… um… I just had to go with what felt right.” 

“But you played right into his hands,” Draco insisted.

“And it worked!” Harry now crossed his arms as well.

“That is beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?”

“Because the point _is_ that you disregarded my advice!” If Draco wasn’t quite shouting, his voice was certainly louder than usual and his jaw was set stubbornly.

“I didn’t have time to… to… regard your advice. You kind of sprung that whole ‘Malfoy Rules of Engagement’ thing on me right before we went in to talk to him. I just don’t understand all that manipulation stuff, Draco!” Now Harry’s posture was every bit as stubborn as Draco’s.

“Oh as if you weren’t trying to manipulate him with that pathetic fiction you concocted.”

“You mean that pathetic fiction THAT WORKED?” Harry finally lost his cool enough to shout, bringing things to a whole new level.

“It only worked because he _**chose**_ to go along with it. And he chose to go along with it because the fact that you were apologizing all over the place puts you in his debt! Where you wouldn’t be if you had LISTENED TO MY ADVICE!” Draco spun away in frustration, turning his back on Harry.

A heavy silence reigned for several moments before Draco heard Harry’s quiet, “I’m sorry.”

Draco knew he had taken things too far. This wasn’t the calm, reasonable conversation about relationship guidelines he’d planned to have. It was just that, damn it, Harry had sounded so blasé about the whole thing; ‘Completely blew off your suggestion, no big deal.’ And then he’d been all ‘But it worked, right?’ Harry just didn’t see the big picture. He was so impulsive. Such a Gryffindor! 

Draco sighed heavily, shaking his head. And now they were arguing. Just when things had been going so well. If only Harry hadn’t mentioned the thing with Lucius. If only he had been able to ignore Harry’s comment and save that conversation for later. Later when they weren’t kissing and talking about nudity and lubricant. And rimming. Draco sighed again. He’d really fucked up. But he could make it right. 

“Look, Harry, I’m sorry-” Draco had turned around to face Harry, expecting to see those gorgeous green eyes regarding him with anger, sadness, or possibly even disappointment. Instead he saw… nothing. “Harry?” Draco glanced frantically toward the door. Surely he’d have heard it open if Harry had left? 

Draco looked back at the couch where they’d been snuggled just a short time before. A movement on the floor caught his eye. It was a furry black tail. Draco walked to the end of the couch and leaned to look over the side. There on the floor was the little black kitten, huddled against the side of the couch, head bowed. Draco thought he saw the kitten shiver.

Sitting down at the end of the couch, Draco reached over and picked up the kitten. Big, sad green eyes blinked at him as he settled the kitten onto the sofa beside him. He stroked the soft fur for a moment before taking out his wand to cast the spell that would allow them to communicate. 

“I’m sorry.” They both managed to apologize at the same time. Draco bent to place a soft kiss on Pof’s head. “I caused this, didn’t I?” he asked. “You were angry with me for being such a prat, and your anger made you transform into a kitten again.”

 _“No, Draco.”_ The kitten moved closer to Draco and put his front paws up on Draco’s thigh. _“It wasn’t anger. I was just so sad that I had done something to upset you. I was thinking that maybe if I was a kitten, you wouldn’t be angry at me anymore.”_

Draco frowned a bit. “So you made yourself change into the kitten so I wouldn’t be angry at you?”

Now the kitten hopped into Draco’s lap and rested his paws on the wizard’s chest. _“No. I only thought about it. I didn’t try to change. It just happened.”_

“Flash of light and all that?” Draco tried not to convey his worry. Before, it had seemed only Harry’s anger had provoked his kitten transformation. They had begun to think that since Harry could now will himself to become the kitten – and since he had transformed back while awake – he was gaining some control over this situation. Now all of that was put in doubt again.

 _“Yes,”_ Pof said, now rubbing his little face against Draco’s chest. _“Are you going to hold me now?”_

Draco wrapped the small animal in his arms and lifted him for neck-nuzzling access. “What am I going to do with you?” he whispered.

 _“Snuggle?”_

“For a bit,” Draco said, and smiled when the kitten began to purr. He wanted to discuss the fact that Harry was now, evidently, changing when he became upset or sad. But… he’d seemed upset at the manor just before they’d left. Why hadn’t he changed then? Was it possible the kitten magic (he could no longer bring himself to think of it as a curse) was even more complicated than they already believed? Draco sighed heavily at the thought.

Pof raised his head and gazed at the wizard. _“Isn’t the snuggling helping you?”_

“Of course,” Draco told him. “What problem can’t be solved by snuggling with a kitten?” In truth, Draco was very concerned. Still, Harry was already upset – enough to unintentionally trigger the kitten magic. It would do no good to try to talk about the issue now. However, there was one thing he was curious about. “Do you think you could change back now – if you wanted to?”

The kitten cocked his head. _“I don’t know. I don’t really think I’m ready to be Harry again.”_

Draco couldn’t help the disappointment that flashed across his face. So much for spending Harry’s first night at the loft engaged in a demonstration of those intentions.

 _“Are you still unhappy with me?”_ Pof asked, ducking his head a bit and looking at Draco with big, sad eyes. 

“No, of course not.” Draco sighed and placed a kiss on the furry head. “It’s just… I thought we had… plans for the evening. Plans involving nudity and lu-”

 _“Draco! Stop!”_ The kitten actually placed his paw on Draco’s mouth in an effort to shush him. _“That’s icky!”_

The eyebrow raised. “Icky?”

 _“Snuggling is better,”_ Pof insisted. _“You’ll see.”_ And with that the kitten once more nuzzled his face into the neck of his favorite person.

Draco just shook his head, but he was smiling a bit as he did so. Holding the kitten close to him, Draco rose from the couch and walked to the kitchen to get a wine glass from the cabinet. Still holding the kitten, he managed to pour a glass of his favorite red. Then he headed toward the bathroom.

 _“What are we doing?”_ Pof asked. He loved being held by Draco and carried around from place to place.

“Well, I’m going to take a bath. As you mentioned before, it was a long weekend. Since it looks as if we’ll be spending the evening relaxing in front of the telly, I thought I’d get a start on the relaxation with a glass of wine and a nice bath.” Draco sat the kitten down on the tile surround of the large, jetted tub. As he started the water running, he said, “Too bad you won’t be joining me. I suppose kittens aren’t fond of baths.”

 _“Nope.”_ The kitten did, however show keen interest in the way the water flowed from the tap. _“What will I do while you take your bath?”_

“Well… did I mention that this bath would involve bubbles?”

 _“Bubbles! I love bubbles!”_ The kitten hopped up in obvious joy, causing the watching wizard to smile broadly.

“Really? I didn’t know.” With the tub steadily filling, Draco began to remove his robes and other garments. 

_“Yes you did! You always make me bubbles.”_ Pof turned little circles in his excitement. 

“Careful, Pof. You don’t want to fall in, do you?” Draco asked as he poured thick, sparkly liquid from a decorative decanter. Almost immediately bubbles began to appear in the tub. To the kitten’s obvious delight, a few floated over the tub area – some making their way directly to him. The tile work around the tub created a wide shelf for him to walk upon. Still, Draco thought there was a real possibility the kitten might be distracted enough by the bubbles to miss his footing.

_“I’m being careful," Pof assured him. "I’ll just use my cat reflexes. Don’t worry.”_

As Draco settled into the tub, the kitten raced along the edges chasing the bubbles that came within his range. The water was luxuriously warm and fragrant and Draco almost immediately felt the tension begin to ease out of him. Now his sighs were of the contented variety. As long as he made sure that bubbles made their way to the kitten from time to time, Pof was content as well.

The bubble bath proved to be a pleasant pastime for both the wizard and the kitten. Eventually, though, it was time to get out. Draco's movements to do so agitated the bubbles so that a few more were dislodged from the mass. They seemed to float almost cheerfully in the direction of the waiting kitten. Pof’s attention was transfixed upon the shiny spheres almost within his reach. And then Draco stepped from the tub and whipped the towel around his body, causing the bubbles to veer from their course.

 _“No!”_ The kitten cried out as he launched himself at the wayward bubbles – and flew out over the tub.

The resulting splash had barely settled when Draco pulled the sputtering kitten from the sudsy water. The thick dark fur clung to the squirmy little body and Draco quickly grabbed an additional towel to wrap around the kitten. Pof was engulfed by the fluffy towel as Draco worked to dry him.

 _“Hey!”_ came the muffled cry from within the towel. _“Let me out!”_

“Sorry,” Draco said as he folded back the edge of the towel to allow the kitten, fur fluffed wildly about him, to begin to emerge. “I was so distracted by the awesome display of your cat reflexes I guess I got a little carried away with the towel.”

 _“Very funny,”_ Pof mumbled pitifully as Draco placed him, still mostly wrapped in the fluffy towel, upon the counter.

Draco chuckled as he took a moment, finally, to dry himself off. Then, tossing the towel aside, he walked into the large wardrobe area that was a part of the bathroom. When he emerged, he was again wearing the silky pajamas that he seemed to prefer. He gathered up the kitten and carried him back into the main area of the loft. “Come on. If you’re finished with your pout, I’ll let you choose the film.”

 _“I’m not pouting,”_ the kitten grumbled petulantly, obviously still feeling somewhat betrayed by the bubbles that had lured him away from the safety of the ledge. _“Stupid bubbles.”_

***=^;^=***

Warm water lapped against his chest as he luxuriated in the bath. Ripples in the surface caused the water to tickle across his skin, leaving it tingling and sensitive. The delicious feeling seemed to spread throughout his body, making him breathless and hard. Definitely hard. A hand slipped down to stroke him, squeeze him. His hand? He was alone in the bath, wasn’t he? But now the water had receded, leaving his skin, warm with sensation, exposed to the cool air.

No – there was the warmth again. Not water. Solid warmth moving against his body but leaving the same electrifying tingles where it touched him. Stroked him. Yes, hands slid along his body. Mmmm. Harry’s hands. Harry stroking him, touching him. So he was dreaming. He’d dreamed of Harry’s touch often enough, but never so vividly. Never had the ache of arousal been so acute in his dreams.

The hands slid away to be replaced by a tongue lapping at his cock. Hot breath tickled the now wet prick. It was this sensation, so undeniably intimate, that finally began to penetrate his shroud of sleep. It was that tongue – a rough/soft instrument painting him with liquid heat. And then the wet warmth engulfed him, and the universe centered on the feel of it. 

“Harry!” Draco called out and, in so doing, awakened. The sensations intensified. The warm, wet mouth pulled at his cock, and the reality of it made him cry out again. Harry was bent between Draco’s spread legs. Sheets, night clothes – all had been stripped away from him, leaving him open and exposed. Harry’s hands caressed his thighs, then slipped up to rub across hip bones on the way to tease his sensitive nipples.

Draco quivered uncontrollably in response to the deluge of sensations. His hands clutched at Harry’s wild wisps of hair in an effort to anchor himself. Harry continued to suckle him, obviously savoring the taste and feel of Draco’s cock in his mouth.

Fully awake now, Draco managed to gather his wits enough to say, rather breathlessly, “Not too icky, then?” He felt Harry exhale a laugh around his cock. The talented mouth slipped slowly up, relinquishing its treat. Green eyes gazed heatedly at him as the tongue swept across lips shiny and plumped from recent activity. Draco almost came at the sight.

“Not icky,” Harry rasped. He moved up Draco’s body until they were aligned, eyes even and locked in a lust-filled gaze. “Brilliant.” Harry brushed his lips across Draco’s, sharing scent, taste, heat. “Beautiful.” Now mouths pressed together and tongues tangled; this contact raising the pitch of the ache to a level of desperation. Harry’s body lowered to cover Draco’s, bared skin against bared skin causing a conflagration of sensation.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, not resisting the temptation to slip one hand down to cup the toned arse. He squeezed it, caressed it. Then slipped fingers between the mounds to explore Harry’s entrance. He found it to be slippery and already loosened, and he moaned at the thought of Harry preparing himself, wishing he could have watched. “Next time,” he thought, and then realized he must have said it aloud when Harry responded.

“Next time,” Harry repeated, nuzzling and licking at Draco’s neck, feeding on his scent. “I thought about waking you. But you looked so beautiful. You have this peace about you. Makes you look… like an angel.” 

Draco crushed his lips to Harry’s, overwhelmed and humbled by this adoration. His tongue plundered Harry’s mouth, desperate for this sweetness. A soft cry of pleasure – it might have been Harry’s or his own – split the kiss. Dragging in breath he’d forgotten he needed, Draco whispered. “I’m no angel.”

Harry grinned, breathing heavily. “You don’t have to be. But you do look like one when you’re sleeping. So… I just watched you and… played and thought about how much I wanted to feel you inside me.”

Harry shifted his hips so his erection slid slowly against Draco's, and both of them moaned at the contact. “You’ve been busy,” Draco whispered. This time he was the one to roll his hips to create the desired friction for their cocks.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Harry whispered back, lifting himself to straddle Draco’s thighs.

Draco’s answer was to clutch Harry’s hips, pulling him toward his erection. Harry held himself steady with one hand pressed against Draco’s chest. The other reached behind to guide Draco’s cock into him. Both men gasped at the initial touch: so intimate, so long-desired. When Draco’s cock breached him, Harry's breath caught again. He quickly reassured his lover with a smile and a caress of his cheek. He waited until Draco met his gaze, hoping the other man would understand all the desires being fulfilled in this moment and whispered, “You are all I want, Draco. All I need.”

They moved together then, Draco rolling his hips up, Harry bringing his body down. Though he wanted to hold Draco’s gaze, Harry flung his head back crying out as Draco filled him, stretched him. “Oh, god!” Harry breathed. 

“Alright?” Draco asked, his voice quiet and strained.

Harry looked down to see grey eyes blazing with desire. There was concern there as well. Draco probably thought Harry needed time to adjust. Harry smiled as he lifted up and then brought himself down on Draco’s cock once more. Pleasure wrenched moans from both men as the ache, the need, flared. 

Harry was tight perfection around Draco’s hardness as he continued to slam up and then plunge back down. It was when Harry quickened his rhythm, riding him hard, that Draco realized he had forgotten to breathe again. The feel of Harry surrounding his hard, pulsing cock was an exquisite ache he wanted never to end.

Draco pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling Harry into a kiss. This one was rough and reflected the hard, beautiful desperation of their coupling. Harry’s hands slipped up into Draco’s soft hair. Once more their kiss was broken as Harry threw his head back in ecstasy. The sexy sounds he made intensified Draco’s need. He shifted their bodies, pushing Harry onto his back. 

One leg wrapped around Draco’s lower back as he slid his hand up the underside of the other thigh – pushing that leg up so the bent knee was near Harry’s chest. Draco looked down at the gorgeous man now beneath him. Harry’s skin was flushed with arousal. His eyes shone with desire and, Draco was certain, love. He stroked a hand down Harry’s chest and gave into the desire to bend and lick the hardened nipples. The sound Harry made in response, so uninhibited, sent a thrill of sensation straight to Draco’s cock. 

He had to move, to push himself into Harry, to claim him. Draco snapped his hips forward and knew by Harry’s shudder and cry that he’d stroked across that sensitive area inside of his lover. He pulled back, then snapped forward again, and hit Harry’s prostate once more.

“Oh! Draco… god!” Harry’s back arched as he cried out. Draco plunged into him, and Harry felt complete and in need all at the same time. “God – that’s – oh yes!!”

Draco watched as Harry came undone, unable to believe this beautiful man was his. Harry’s shudders and cries of pleasure drove him now. He quickened his pace, his strokes hard and deep. Harry’s cock, jolted with each of Draco’s strokes, leaked that glistening precious moisture Draco knew by taste. He caressed the head of Harry’s cock, gathering a bit of the pre-come that he then licked off of his hand. 

Seeing Draco tasting him, feeling his swollen cock pounding into him, Harry felt his body begin to burn with imminent release. Then Draco brushed his hand down Harry’s cock, ending by gripping it with a firm, twisting stroke. His orgasm tore through him, and his come pulsed out of him. Almost immediately, he felt Draco convulse forcefully and heard his name being shouted as his lover experienced his own intense release.

Draco continued to stroke Harry and to move slowly within him as the rhythm of their orgasms slowed. Finally, he fell forward, collapsing against Harry as they both tried to remember how to breathe normally again. They lay like that for what was probably several minutes, quiet contentment wrapping around them like a comfortable blanket.

Eventually, Draco felt recovered enough to reach up and place a soft kiss on Harry’s lips. Then, pulling gently out of him, moved just to the side. They still touched along the full length of their bodies, and Harry reached down and entwined his fingers with Draco’s. Both men lay with eyes closed, so they were unable to see their identical smiles of contentment. Blissfully exhausted, they drifted off to sleep.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Soft light still filtered through the bedroom area of the loft, just as it had when Harry had woken him earlier. The wall sconces, at the dimmest setting, provided just enough light for Draco to be able to study every detail of his bed partner while still keeping them wrapped in an intimate, half-light. He lay on his side gazing with tenderness at the dear, sleep-softened face of his lover. 

Harry slept peacefully, a hint of a smile on his lips. Draco wanted to touch that sweet mouth. To trace his fingers across it, brush it with his lips, lightly trail his tongue just where it parted. He continued to resist, somehow, and just lay watching Harry. Draco knew that sleep – deep, restful sleep – had been something the curse had denied him. It was no small thing that slumber, with it healing powers, had been restored to Harry.

Still, it was difficult to stop himself from reaching over to touch Harry in some way. He was allowed now, after all. They had claimed each other. Draco shook his head a bit, thinking about how, for such a very long time, both of them had cloaked themselves in the familiar ambivalence, the expected distance that had defined the relationship of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Or, more accurately, the lack of relationship. Both had wanted something completely different, but had been without hope that it could ever be.

Draco’s thoughts drifted to the old woman with the faded blue eyes. She had changed everything. She had changed them. Harry’s transformation was more obvious, of course. He was now occasionally furry. And Draco? He was now alive.

He couldn’t say that he had a bad life these days. It certainly could be worse. Thanks to Hermione, Draco had been accepted back into the bosom of Wizarding Britain in a way he still found quite astonishing. He had his family, his job at the Ministry. He had more friends than he’d ever had – ones that seemed to like him for himself and not because of wealth or political connections. 

Despite all that Draco recognized as good – and was grateful for – he now realized that he had not truly been living his life. He’d been… existing. And that existence had been dull and unsatisfying. It was not until these last few days with Harry that he realized how complacent he’d become. He’d accepted his lot. But now… now a little black kitten and a tall dark wizard had shaken him out of that ‘good enough’ frame of mind. Now he felt joy, excitement, tenderness. And love. His life had been like Harry’s vision without glasses – hints, suggestions, vague representations of objects that could only be seen clearly with the proper lens. 

Now his perception was sharpened, and he was filled with anticipation and a sense of possibility. Despite the fear about the Rotting magic and the worry about Grimmauld Place these last few days, Draco felt the time he had spent with Harry – furry or not – had been the best time of his life. But even better: they were at their beginning. That thought wrapped around him and a contented, and possibly quite silly, smile spread across Draco’s face. 

As if sensing Draco’s affectionate regard, Harry – still asleep – turned his face toward him. Draco was struck by his beauty. When Harry’s eyes were open, they captivated, making it sometimes difficult to really focus on the rest of him. The dark unruly hair was something Draco had always secretly loved, even when he had teased Harry about it during their contentious youth. And then there was that mouth: sweet and sexy at the same time. Just like Harry.

Harry sighed softly in his sleep, his lips parting as if waiting for a kiss. Now this was something Draco was unable to resist any longer. He moved closer until he could feel Harry’s breath escape. This powerful wizard looked almost childlike in sleep, again a contrast: masculine, yet delicate.

But it was that innocent rosebud mouth that drew him closer. Ever so softly, Draco touched his lips to Harry’s. Warm breath, velvet petals of flesh, a sweetness he knew he would crave until the end of time.

Draco didn’t know when he had closed his eyes. Touch and taste had been the predominant senses during the stolen kiss. When he opened them though, he was met by Harry’s sleepy, loving gaze. 

“Hi,” Harry whispered.

“Hi,” Draco whispered back, raising a hand, finally, to cup Harry’s cheek. “Sorry, kitten. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

A slow, sleepy smile eased its way onto Harry’s face. “It’s okay. Rather be looking at you than sleeping anyway.” Harry placed his hand over Draco’s and turned to kiss the palm. “What time is it?”

“Early, I’m sure. I refuse to look at the clock at the moment.” Draco slipped his hand from Harry’s cheek, but took Harry’s hand with him. Harry’s body followed and he rolled onto his side, mirroring Draco. Their entwined hands were the only place they touched, though each lay close enough to feel the heat coming from the body opposite. 

Harry’s sleepy half-smile accompanied his mild look of bemusement. “Because refusing to look at the clock will make it go away, no doubt.”

Draco sighed. “That would be some useful magic. But, no, that’s not it. I’m perhaps not so much refusing to look at it as purposely neglecting to look at it.”

The half-smile stretched more toward a full one. “Purposely neglecting to look at the clock. That’s so… you.”

“What does that mean?” Draco brow furrowed a bit.

“It means that you have your own ‘Draco’ way of saying things, and I like it.” Harry brought their linked hands up to kiss Draco’s fingers. “I’m taking that to mean that you don’t give a shit what time it is.”

“Precisely,” Draco said smugly, “and I’ll tell you why. You’re on your own timetable; the people wanting to talk to you at the Ministry will make time for you whenever you get there. I’m going to be with you. I say we go to the Ministry when we feel damn good and ready.”

Harry smirked, “How about next week sometime? 

“Okay,” Draco answered with no hesitation. He’d seen last night how Harry’s anxiety rose at the thought of having to deal with the department heads. He would not push Harry to talk with them. The man needed to feel he had control over something in his life.

The smile on Harry’s face softened just a bit. “Thank you. I know we probably can’t put them off that long, but thank you for pretending.”

“I’m not,” Draco insisted. “What are they going to do if we don’t show up? Send out the Aurors? I doubt that.”

Harry’s brow furrowed a bit as he considered something. Finally he asked, “How much do the others know? My squad, I mean. The other Aurors.”

“They know about the Rotting Magic and that it was responsible for the change in your personality,” Draco explained. He was somewhat reluctant to discuss this at the moment, but Harry seemed to need some reassurance.

“Yeah, they had a front row seat for how it affected my personality,” Harry said ruefully. He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing deeply. “I could see it, you know. When I was raging. I could see how they looked at me. I… I just couldn’t stop myself. They must all think I’m mad.” He slowly opened his eyes, but he didn’t meet Draco’s gaze as he asked, “Do you think they’ll still want to work with me?”

Draco didn’t answer immediately. Instead he unlinked their hands so he could reach over and lightly trace a finger along Harry’s scar. There was a soft, almost inaudible intake of air as Harry finally raised his eyes to Draco’s. Holding that gaze, Draco once more took Harry’s hand in his. “Your squad was the first one on the scene at Grimmauld Place, Harry. When the message came in about the problem there, your squad insisted that Robards send them in immediately.”

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “They’re good people.”

“Led by a good man,” Draco said. “But, remember, at that time, they didn’t know what was going on – only that there was a problem at your house. They didn’t learn until later about the Rotting magic and how it had affected your personality. All they knew was that you might be in trouble. Despite your… recent difficult behavior, they didn’t hesitate to help you. They’re still your squad.” Harry nodded again, but didn’t say anything. Draco added, “They’re Aurors, Harry. Every time they go out on assignment they risk being cursed or killed. They’re not going to forsake you for being the victim of a curse.” 

A heavy sigh escaped him, but he nodded his acceptance of Draco’s words. “You’re right. I think it’s just the curse messing with my mind again. Normally, I would have been able to see that for myself.” Harry grimaced and shook his head. “This is one of the things I hate most. All this… uncertainty. I don’t think I was this unsure of myself when I was eleven years old and starting Hogwarts.”

Draco smirked. “I definitely agree with that. You always seemed very fucking sure of yourself.” 

“But part of you must have liked that,” Harry said, returning the smirk. “Wasn’t there some mention recently about an ‘incredibly enticing school boy’?” 

“You’re not going to let that go, are you? And you keep forgetting the ‘messy and moody’ part.” Draco brought Harry’s hand up to his mouth, but this time gave it a small nip instead of a kiss.

“Draco! Be nice. I’m recently homeless. And sometimes furry. Surely that deserves some sympathy?” Harry’s tone was light, but there was a hint of tension in his eyes.

Draco brought the hand back to his mouth, but still didn’t kiss it. He licked it instead, enjoying the way the tension in Harry’s eyes dissolved as they flared with interest. “You were never homeless. I’d already invited you to live here before Grimmauld Place was consumed by the Rotting magic.” Draco brushed his lips across Harry’s knuckles, teeth barely grazing skin. “You’re not trying to get out of it, are you? Planning to throw yourself at the mercy of various Weasleys?”

A hint of mischief crept onto Harry’s face. “No! I mean, I like the Weasleys. All of them. But…” Harry paused and seemed to give the matter serious consideration. “Ron and Hermione don’t need me hanging around. Molly and Arthur are great, but with nobody else at home, I’d be the focus of all their parenting efforts.” Harry shivered a bit at that thought. “Ginny and Neville would probably take me in, but that might be a bit awkward, all things considered. George… I’d rather not be a test subject for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, thanks. But… I guess there’s Charlie. He’s always seemed _very_ interested in having me visit.” And then Harry blinked wide, oh-so-innocent eyes.

Draco arched a brow. “Leave manipulation to the Slytherins, Potter. You really haven’t got the knack.” Still, he cupped Harry’s face and drew him forward for a kiss. He pressed his mouth possessively against Harry’s and didn’t stop his assault until Harry uttered a soft, suspiciously whimper-like sound. “And there will be no visiting with the dragon tamer unless I go along as well.”

Harry smirked as he stole a quick kiss. “Of course, Draco.” 

The two settled comfortably again, but even closer this time. The coverlet had slipped, exposing more pale skin to glow in the muted light. Harry’s skin was still nowhere near as fair as Draco’s, but Draco had noted that Harry’s once-tanned complexion was much lighter than it had always been before. A physical indicator, Draco realized, of the effects of the compulsion that had kept him tied to the Black House. Aside from going to work, Harry had evidently spent almost all of his time inside that malevolent building. Something twisted in Draco’s chest at the thought of Harry sitting, alone, day after day surrounded by that oppressive evil.

Once more Draco reached out to trace his fingers lightly along Harry’s scar. Heat flared in Harry’s eyes. A most interesting reaction, Draco noted. His fingers continued their feathering journey down Harry’s cheek, then stroked along his strong jaw. Draco had spent a fair amount of time over the years gazing at that jaw, imagining how it would feel to brush his lips along it. That was definitely a worthy endeavor he intended to devote a great deal of time to, now that they had the opportunity to enjoy such activities.

For now though, Draco’s hand continued down to stroke the warm skin of Harry’s chest, resting momentarily over the beating heart. The cadence seemed to quicken in response to Draco’s touch. He moved his hand along the contours of Harry’s abdomen, then up again along his shoulder and down his arm. The bedcovers now only covered them from the waist down. Draco was mesmerized by the soft glow and warmth of Harry’s skin, and the way his own pale hand looked as it stroked Harry’s body.

“Beautiful,” Draco whispered. “I could touch you like this for hours.”

Harry seemed to require a deep breath before he could answer. “I’m alright with that. You’re doing a fine job of convincing me to just stay here in bed.” Harry paused to sigh as Draco slipped his hand just below the cover to lightly caress his hip before traveling slowly up his side. 

“Mmm… perhaps I’ll just keep you naked and in bed for a few days.” Draco’s voice was low and silken.

Harry smiled lazily, enjoying Draco’s tactile play. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve only got one set of clothes, really.”

Draco’s hand stilled and his eyes flew wide. “Merlin – that’s right. Well, you actually have two: the attire you wore at the manor and the Auror robes you were wearing the day this all began.” A broad, satisfied grin spread across Draco’s face. “We’ll need to go shopping!”

Harry’s heartbeat now quickened with a mild sense of alarm as he observed the fervent gleam in Draco’s eyes at the mention of shopping. The man actually looked as if he might orgasm over the thought of helping Harry re-establish his wardrobe. “Umm… I suppose you’re right. I can’t go around wearing your transfigured robes all the time and -” Harry paused a moment, then made an unsuccessful attempt to look unaffected as he said, “I probably won’t need my Auror uniform for a while.”

“Only for a while,” Draco said reassuringly, as he slipped his hand up to cup Harry’s cheek. “Think of how much better you are already, Harry. As this poisonous effect from the Rotting magic leaves your system, you’ll gain more and more control over your emotions. With that control, you won’t be turning into a kitten at inconvenient moments. And you’ll be able to go back to work.” Slipping his hand into Harry’s hair, he added, “It may happen sooner than you think.”

Harry sighed but managed to give Draco a small smile. “I hope you’re right, Draco. But if last night was any indication, I’m now going to change when I feel upset: not just as a result of anger or rage.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Draco said. “It’s only happened once, and you were feeling sad because you didn’t want me to be angry with you.” Draco waited until Harry nodded his acknowledgement. “Harry, you need to have faith in me. In us. You don’t need to turn into a kitten when you’re feeling sad or uncertain. You just need to talk to me.”

“I know. I’m… I guess I’m just not used to having someone to trust that way. I mean, Ron and Hermione are terrific friends. The best. But… I’ve never felt upset in that way if they were angry with me. Certainly I didn’t want them to be unhappy with me. But it was different last night. You are so important to me. Right now – with this mess that the Rotting magic has made of my emotions – I just can’t bear the thought of you being angry with me.” Harry lay back in frustration and rolled his eyes. “Merlin, I sound so pathetic.” 

Draco propped himself up on an elbow and looked down into Harry’s face. “You just told me that I’m important to you. You’ll have to forgive me if I fail to find that pathetic.” He was gratified at the hint of a smile that pulled at Harry’s mouth. “Harry, I’m not going to promise you that I’m never going to get angry or upset or exasperated. You may have noticed; that’s just not the way my personality is put together.”

Harry reached up to smooth back a lock of pale hair that had fallen forward. “I have noticed,” he said, then smirked. “I actually kind of enjoy watching you when you’re all riled. And, to be honest, I used to get a little excited when I was the target of all that… heat.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Draco exclaimed. “You know, I’ve missed our tangles. Especially the last few years when you seemed so… indifferent to me.”

“Trust me, love. I’ve never been indifferent to you.” Harry pulled Draco down and got in a quick neck nuzzle before bringing their lips together for an impassioned kiss. He worked magic with his mouth, and when he finished, Draco was looking more than a little dazed. Harry smirked wickedly. “Definitely not indifferent.”

Draco sank down against him, snuggling into Harry’s arms. A contented sigh escaped him, and they lay together that way for what may have been several minutes (the clock was still being ignored). “This is nice,” Draco finally managed to say.

“What?” Harry asked. “The snuggling?”

“Mmhmm… Naked snuggling. I think we should make it a habit.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed easily. This was certainly no hardship. Draco’s body was warm, and his comforting scent seemed to surround them. The heartbeat pulsing against him lulled him back toward sleep. And that was where they were drifting peacefully until…

_Hit me with your best shot.  
Come on and hit me with your best shot.  
Hit me with your best shot. Fire away!_

Harry heard Draco’s groan and felt him pull away to rise from the bed. There was a muffled “Damn mobile!” from the other room as the song started once again. He had just fluffed his pillow a bit and snuggled back down when Draco re-entered the bedroom area. Harry didn’t immediately notice that the phone in his hand was no longer making any sound because Draco was, after all, naked. 

“I’ll give it a minute or so,” Draco said as he sat down upon the bed. “Hermione will leave a message since I didn’t answer. A very long message which my phone will cut off before she finishes.” He lifted the covers and scooted back over beside Harry. 

“How do you know?” Harry asked, immediately rolling onto his side to face Draco.

Draco spared him a look that clearly indicated disbelief. “Seriously? Does Hermione strike you as someone who can leave a brief message about anything? Honestly, my voicemail is the only thing I’ve ever known of to thwart her.” 

“And the ringtone?” Harry had heard the song before, but was unsure of the artist. Once again his dearth of knowledge about Muggle pop culture leaving him behind even pureblood Draco Malfoy.

Draco grinned. “A nod to a certain incident in third year.” Draco pushed a couple of the keys and then held the phone to his ear. After a moment, Harry could hear Hermione’s voice, but was unable to clearly discern her words. He waited as Draco listened to the message.

“Well, of course, she wants to know of our plans,” Draco said as he snapped the phone shut and placed it on the nightstand. Then he rolled back over, again mirroring Harry as the two lay on their sides facing one another. “Also wants to know how you’re doing, is there anything she can do, and – who knows how – Ron has discovered that my mother calls you ‘Puff’ so you should expect a fair amount of torment in that regard.”

Harry nodded in resignation. He would not expect anything less from his best friend. “Are you going to call her back?”

“Of course not. We don’t yet know our plans for the day, there’s nothing she can really do at this point that she’s probably not doing already, and Ron’s far too easily amused.” Once again, Draco’s hand began to lightly trail across Harry’s chest and shoulders. “I’m not sure what you’d tell her about how you’re feeling, so whether we call her back in that regard is up to you.”

Harry took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of Draco’s hand as it stroked across his upper body. “Right now I’m feeling brilliant.” He took a moment to appreciate Draco’s smile before adding, “I do have some idea of what our plans should include, though.”

“Really? What did you have in mind?” Draco was curious, but Harry’s toned abdomen was more than just a bit distracting.

“I need to go to Gringotts,” Harry said. “There are a few things there I need to attend to.”

That caught Draco’s attention. “Is this to do with the owl that came to the manor?” he blurted. Draco actually blushed a bit at his own rudeness. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“Actually,” Harry said, “it is, in a way.” He smiled reassuringly at Draco to let him know no offense had been taken. He was elated to have someone to share his ‘business’ with. “You’re in my life now, Draco. I want to share things with you. And this particular business involves the Black family.”

Draco hesitated only a moment before asking, “What is it?”

“Well, I won’t know for certain until we go to the bank. The message was to alert me that some activity had occurred in the Black vault.”

“What kind of activity?” Draco tried to contain his curiosity, but was certain it horribly obvious.

“The goblins didn’t know for certain, only that nothing had been taken out of the vault,” Harry explained. “They want me to verify the contents.”

Draco’s brows drew together as he considered Harry’s words. The bank policy had always been to check the vaults once per decade to see if any thieves had been trapped there. Draco thought it was particularly odd that the vault check should happen to coincide with the demise of the Black House. Something about the expression on Harry’s face seemed to indicate there was more to the story. Draco was more than just a little intrigued. “That’s quite the coincidence, isn’t it? That they should happen to check the vault at this time, and discover something amiss, just when number 12, Grimmauld Place succumbs to a curse?”

“It wasn’t actually a coincidence. Most people don’t realize that the goblins have updated their security system since the war.” Harry hesitated only a moment before continuing to explain. “They still have most of the old safeguards in place: dragons and the like. But they’ve also implemented additional charms to prevent theft.”

Draco nodded. “I know that the process of getting into one’s vault is more complex now. Anyone who’s had to visit their vaults since the war knows that.”

“Yes, they’ve become particularly careful about making certain the person seeking entrance to the vault is who he or she actually appears to be,” Harry said. “Evidently one of their added safety measures also allows them to know more immediately of any unanticipated activity in the vault area. That’s why they contacted me. They knew I hadn’t been to the vault, but their charm indicated something has been moved within it.” 

Draco nodded his approval. “Seems a much more proactive security measure than just checking every ten years to see if any of the vaults contain some would-be thief’s rotting corpse. Do you have any idea what might have happened in the Black vault?” Draco hadn’t really expected Harry to have an answer to that question but, looking at Harry’s face just then, it was obvious that Harry did know something. “You do know, don’t you?” 

Harry took in a slow breath and released it just as slowly. “It can only be one thing. There was only a single item in that vault. Walburga’s portrait.”

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Diagon Alley was bustling with late-morning traffic. Just as the recent storms had kept most people indoors, the tentative sun was now drawing them out. In fact, Harry was certain there were many more people in the Wizarding business district on this morning than was typical for this time of day. Though the air was cold and damp, and the clouds still obscured most of the sky, people seemed eager to enjoy the pale sunshine while it was available on the chance the rain might start again at any time.

Draco walked close beside him, their hands brushing inconspicuously now and then. With the kitten issue still unresolved, they both felt this was not the time to draw attention. Harry Potter walking hand in hand with Draco Malfoy would certainly cause a stir. 

Seven years after the war, the public was still fascinated by Harry. As the compulsion had made him more and more of a recluse, Wizarding newspapers and magazines had been relegated to reporting only on Harry’s career. Since his case work with the Auror department was often confidential, that left only the occasional required Ministry functions Harry was unable to avoid. Unfortunately, the lack of newsworthy information on Harry Potter had only seemed to increase the public’s interest in him. Now, since he was vulnerable in his kitten state, public scrutiny was something he definitely wanted to avoid.

Harry had never felt the burden of his celebrity more than he did now. The time immediately following the end of the war had been crazy, but he’d learned to deal with it. In the years of suffering under the compulsion, the time he actually spent in the public eye had been limited. Now, he wanted nothing more than to touch Draco as they walked past the stores toward Gringotts, to hold his hand the way couples were allowed to do. They’d both agreed, before leaving the loft, that keeping Harry’s kitten transformation a secret was crucial for his safety. Additionally, it had become something Harry found comfort in and was, therefore, something he wanted to keep as private as possible. 

The same could be said for his relationship with Draco. It was so new and precious. Harry wasn’t ready for the public to weigh in on his love life. There had been enough speculation about it over the years. Now he had something he’d never had before and, as adamant as Draco was about protecting Harry and Pof, Harry was just as determined to protect Draco and their relationship for as long as possible. Certainly it was frustrating; Harry was happy and a part of him wanted to let everyone know Draco Malfoy was his. He wanted to hold his hand as they walked along, steal kisses as they paused to window shop. Today, though, was not the day for that. 

They had not hurried along Diagon Alley. Like so many others in the crowd, they took the time to enjoy the opportunity to just be outdoors for a change. No one seeing them would have guessed the two young wizards had a very particular destination in mind. That destination now loomed before them. Harry stopped in front of the bank, and Draco noted his reluctance. 

“We don’t have to do this today,” Draco told him quietly. “We could go back to the loft and… continue our earlier activities.”

Harry smiled at the thought of their earlier activities. Naked snuggling and conversation had progressed into more attention to the naked bits and less talking. Touching, stoking, moving together had assuaged that delicious ache of their need for one another. Then there had been another slow shower with more touching and tasting – this one all the more pleasurable as no parents were waiting for them to come down to breakfast. 

Draco’s offer was tempting, to say the least. And the fact that he knew Draco was genuinely supportive of whatever he decided to do – go back to the loft or continue to the bank – made Harry that much more appreciative of the man. 

“I know,” Harry said, still smiling softly. “Thank you for that.” It was all Harry could do not to reach out to caress Draco’s cheek and pull him close. “Maybe once we finish here… although I guess we still need to do something about clothes.”

That light returned to Draco’s eyes. “Yes! We definitely need to go shopping for you.” Draco lowered his voice and leaned in just the tiniest bit. “Remember my daydreams regarding certain convenient alcoves at Hogwarts?”

Harry’s eyes widened a bit, and he felt his mouth go dry. He could only nod to indicate to Draco that he had a whole new appreciation for those hidden alcoves. Draco’s wicked smirk drew Harry’s attention to his mouth – that very, very talented mouth.

“Madam Malkin’s has always held a special place in my ‘daydreams’ as well. Surely you’ve noted the enclosed dressing rooms at the back of the shop?” Draco breathed the words, making them barely audible – but Harry heard every word.

“Shopping,” Harry said, brilliantly succinct. He knew they were talking so quietly that even those passing close by couldn’t hear. He wondered, though, how anyone could fail to hear the quickened thud of his heart. “Definitely in the plan.”

Draco smirked and turned toward the bank. His banter had seemed to have the intended effect of easing Harry’s anxiety about visiting the Black vault. Not that he was not in earnest about his plan to take full advantage of the privacy afforded by those small enclosed rooms at Madam Malkin’s. Harry would be in various stages of undress, after all. Providence practically demanded that sexual activity should ensue. 

They made their way through the two sets of doors into the bank. Just as the thoroughfare outside the building had been, the bank was filled with people out taking advantage of the fairer weather to attend to business. The two young wizards had barely stepped into the building before they were approached by a goblin. The creature strutted toward them, fancy frock coat swaying and the heels of his crushed velvet pumps, complete with large satin bows, clacking noisily across the marble floor. As always, this goblin reminded Harry of the portraits he’d seen of French aristocrats in the court of… well, Louis the something or other, all dressed up in their extravagant finery and powdered wigs. Harry really didn’t see the point of the get up; the creature still looked like a goblin, after all.

Harry knew that this goblin, Kurglap, was the ‘new face of Gringotts.’ He was one of the young (in goblin reckoning), forward-thinking goblins who had been put in charge at the bank since the end of the war. He had also been the one to demand, smiling all the while, that Auror Potter’s knowledge of the safeguards at the bank be extremely limited. Given the fact that he had successfully broken into and stolen from one of the vaults during the war, Harry found that he really couldn’t begrudge the goblin’s reluctance on the matter.

There had been some post-war cooperation between the Magical Law Enforcement department and the goblins during the reparation and revamping of Gringotts. Head Auror Robards and most of the Auror squad leaders were privy to some of the changes that had been put into place. Though the goblins were still extremely closed-mouthed about things, they had made some show of involving MLE in developing the new safeguards. Harry suspected it was definitely more show than anything. The goblins would always distrust wizards and hold to their secrets, regardless of the seemingly open, fresh-faced approach they were promoting at present.

Draco’s barely audible sigh brought Harry out of his musing about the goblins, but when he turned to look at him, the other man had his mask carefully fixed. Grey eyes had no difficulty gazing off above the powdered wig of the much shorter goblin, as Draco gave every appearance of being fascinated by something happening across the way. 

“Ah! Mr. Potter, we’ve been expecting you.” Kurglap inclined his head and then turned to Draco and, in a low, seductive tone said, “And Mr. Malfoy – always a pleasure.” Not waiting for either wizard to answer, the goblin turned, indicating that they should follow.

Draco felt Harry’s gaze upon him. “Don’t ask,” Draco mouthed, rolling his eyes. His answer only served to make Harry’s curiosity bubble.

The goblin finally stopped at a door and held it open for the two wizards. Draco preceded him, so Harry was able to observe Kurglap’s leer as Draco walked past. The cheek of the creature irked him, and he found himself barely resisting the urge to tread upon the silly velvet shoes. Fortunately for the goblin, Harry’s attention was diverted by the room’s occupant. 

Narcissa Malfoy sat, the picture of elegance, in one of the leather chairs in front of a large, ornate desk. “Hello, my dears.” She nodded gracefully, but something in the way her eyes twinkled made Harry feel as if she had just embraced him. He suddenly felt very right about his decision to include her in the visit to the vault.

After hearing what Harry had to say regarding his decision to place the portrait of Walburga in the Black family vault, Draco had suggested they owl Narcissa. Harry had agreed that it would be appropriate for Narcissa, one of the last of the Black family, to attend when the vault was opened. Equally important in Harry’s mind was her knowledge of the Rotting magic tied to the portrait. He’d left the invitation open for Lucius, if he wanted to accompany his wife, but Harry had to admit that he felt somewhat relieved that Draco’s father had declined.

The two young men took the remaining seats as Kurglap sat opposite them across an ornate desk. Harry was pleased that the goblin put on his business face instead of continuing his simpering flirtation toward Draco.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter, for responding to the owl we sent. Any unanticipated activity in the vault area is a great concern to us. We are anxious to determine if there is an issue with the security of your vault.” Kurglap’s small black eyes seemed to regard Harry with just a hint of suspicion – as trying to determine if Harry had orchestrated the occurrence for the opportunity of felonious activity within the bank. 

Resisting the temptation to roll his eyes, Harry said, “I assure you I’m just as concerned as you are and anxious to visit the vault in question.”

“Of course,” Kurglap said. “Since you mentioned in your message that Mrs. Malfoy would be meeting you here, I assume she will be accompanying you to the vault?”

“Yes, and Mr. Malfoy as well,” Harry said, indicating Draco. “And after the Black vault, I’d like to visit the Potter vault.”

Draco inclined his head toward Harry and said quietly, “Mother and I will wait for you at the loft, if you’d like.”

“No, Draco,” Harry said quickly. “I want you to visit my family vault with me.” Turning to Narcissa he said, “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not, Harry. After we see to the situation in the Black vault, I’ll leave you and Draco to your other business. I’m planning to meet Lucius for lunch anyway.” Again her eyes twinkled as she smiled at him, and Harry couldn’t resist smiling in return. 

“So,” Kurglap’s gaze lingered on Draco a bit longer than Harry thought necessary before the goblin continued, “the three of you will be visiting the vaults. I’ll have one of my associates join us so that he may escort Mrs. Malfoy back while we continue on to the other vault.” Kurglap rose and walked over to a framed mirror. “If you will each cast so that your magical signature can be verified.”

Harry rose first and walked to the mirror. He withdrew his wand and muttered a spell. It wouldn’t have surprised him if the goblin knew he didn’t need a wand to cast, but he wasn’t going to give the creature the satisfaction of showing him any wandless magic. Harry’s name appeared in the mirror, and he stepped away so Narcissa and Draco could cast as well.

That done and Kurglap satisfied regarding their identities, he led them through a door on the opposite wall from where they had entered the room. The corridor they followed opened into the area where they would begin their journey down into the vaults. A cart came rumbling along the tracks and stopped before them. Sitting in this cart was another goblin who reminded Harry of Merky, the Malfoy’s disreputable house-elf. Certainly this goblin did not have the contrived appearance that Kurglap presented.

The moment they were settled into the cart, it took off again. Though Harry had adjusted to most forms of magical travel, he still found the cart rides at Gringotts a bit dizzying; probably because he visited the bank only infrequently. They rocketed along down to higher security vaults where the one belonging to the Black family was located. 

Fortunately, the journey did not seem to take too long and the group stepped out to stand before the vault door. Kurglap walked up to the door and, pausing only to glance at Harry, stroked his finger down the wood. The door evaporated. The goblin stepped back to allow Harry to enter first. Harry took a deep breath and proceeded into the vault followed by Draco and Narcissa.

The moment Harry stepped inside, torches flared to life, providing a clear view of the only object in the room. The large portrait of Walburga Black sat on the floor, propped against the wall. The image on the canvas immediately stirred, but it was obvious the Rotting magic had not left the portrait untouched.

The frame looked weather-beaten, and the canvas no longer seemed stretched taut across it. Paint appeared to have chipped off in places and the colors, always dark, were muted by a film of what appeared to be mold. The voice that emanated from the portrait was raspy instead of strident. The venom, however, had not been weakened by the wasting curse.

“Filth! Half-blood upstart!” Walburga paused as if this vitriol cost her precious breath. It was this kind of affectation which had made it impossible for Harry to destroy the portrait once he’d managed to remove it from the wall. He knew the portrait was not a living thing, but the animation of the subjects in Wizarding art made it difficult for him to view them as completely lifeless. “You will soon feel my vengeance!”

Since Harry seemed unable to speak, Narcissa stepped forward. “Walburga, stop this.”

The image of Walburga turned to Narcissa. “Daughter of the House of Black,” she wheezed. “Have you come to reclaim me? Have you ousted this unclean half-blood?”

Harry stepped forward and addressed the old woman. “She came at my request. We wanted to see if the Rotting magic had affected you.”

The old witch seemed to recoil at his words. She looked from Harry to Draco and Narcissa. “He knows of the curse? How is he even standing here? He should be dead!”

“The Rotting magic was designed to punish and eliminate an unworthy heir,” Draco said quietly. “Evidently Harry Potter is not unworthy.”

“He’s filth! The Rotting magic worked – I can feel it. He should have been dead years ago. He’s a pretender! His inheritance was an offense against the Noble and Ancient House of Black!” Walburga stopped again, breathing heavily and pulling at her hair. “Kill him!”

“Enough!” Narcissa stepped toward the portrait. “You are the unworthy! Your blind prejudice made you reckless. In an effort to destroy Harry you have laid waste to the thing you professed to cherish. Number twelve Grimmauld Place is gone. The Rotting magic you cast has obliterated it.”

“That can’t be!” Walburga raged. “He’d be dead if the house was gone!” Flakes of paint began to break away from the canvas and the frame cracked along one side. 

“I’m not gone. I’ve survived.” Harry took Draco’s hand and stepped up to put an arm around Narcissa’s shoulders. “Thanks to Draco and Narcissa – and Lucius – I beat the curse. You lose, Walburga.”

“No!” she wailed. The canvas ripped along one side and more of the paint flaked off. “Traitors! You are traitors to your family! Blood traitors!”

Narcissa’s voice rang out with proud clarity. “I am, by birth, a Daughter of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. By marriage, I am a Malfoy. My son is a worthy descendent of both Houses. Harry Potter is the heir of the Black family in every legal and magical sense.” Narcissa stepped forward once more and drew her wand. “And you, Walburga Black, are irrelevant!” 

Narcissa snapped her wand arm up and Draco recognized the spell she intoned as the one that had been used at Grimmauld Place to accelerate the curse. The hate-filled old woman in the portrait screamed as the spell hit, but the sound died away as the portrait disintegrated almost instantaneously. An ash-like substance was soon all that was left in a pile on the floor of the vault.

Harry’s stared numbly at the remnants of the portrait. He hadn’t really known what would come of this trip to the vault. Of course he had expected Walburga to scream and spit her usual vitriol, and he had speculated that the portrait might show signs of the effects of the Rotting magic. Perhaps a very tiny part of him had wondered if Narcissa and Draco might be able to reason with the old woman in some way. To convince her to just move on from all her anger so she might just… rest in peace, or something.

Suddenly a swirl of air seemed to rush into the vault and all the occupants watched as the ashes were lifted, taken up into a twisting funnel that moved toward the ceiling. Little bits of the ashy substance seemed to break free and, as they did so, winked out of sight.

“Just the same as what happened at Grimmauld Place,” Draco said quietly, watching as, bit by bit, all that had been left of the portrait ceased to exist.

As each bit of the residue disappeared, Harry’s sense of relief grew. Finally there was nothing left of the portrait, no hint to suggest the vault had contained anything. The group stood silent for a moment before Harry drew a deep breath. The two Malfoys turned to look at him in concern and were relieved to see a slow smile break across his face. Elated, Harry grabbed Draco and pulled him into a hug. Hesitating only a moment, he reached across for Narcissa and brought her into the embrace as well.

The goblins had stood discreetly just outside the vault, but Harry was certain they had been aware of what had transpired. Over Draco’s shoulder he caught Kurglap’s speculative look. Of course, the goblin may have been wondering about his relationship with Draco – given the goblin’s apparent yet surprising interest in the blond – rather than the sudden disappearance of the portrait. 

Harry stepped back to address the goblin. “Reseal this vault. The Black family -” Harry exchanged a glance with Draco and Narcissa, “may have use for it in the future. Now, I’d like to visit the Potter vault.”

“Well, I must be going,” Narcissa said, reaching up to kiss both Harry and Draco. Then, addressing Kurglap, she said, “You may escort me back to the main level now. Have I mentioned how absolutely charming you are? So nice for you that the bank recognized what an asset you are in dealing with the public.” 

As Narcissa had taken Kurglap’s arm, he had no real choice but to escort her, leaving Merky’s goblin twin to assist Harry and Draco. Harry thought he noted wistful disappointment in Kurglap’s expression as he bowed to the two wizards. Then he caught Narcissa’s smirk and realized she had purposely maneuvered Kurglap away from Draco and Harry. He was really becoming a tremendous fan of Narcissa Malfoy!

Draco breathed an obvious sigh of relief as the cart containing his mother and the amorous goblin shot out of sight. Harry was dying to question Draco about it, but decided it would be best to wait until they were away from the bank and other goblin ears. He did reach over and take Draco’s hand, linking their fingers. Their goblin escort – Kurglap had failed to introduce him, so Harry was beginning to think of him as Merky II – did not appear to notice the affectionate gesture.

The Potter vault was not on the same level as the Black vault, but wasn’t too far away. In no time at all they were stepping out of the cart and facing the door to the secure room containing the Potter family possessions. Goblin-Merky stood, waiting for Harry to give him permission to open the vault. In the past, Harry’s vault was opened with a small gold key. During the time he was under the compulsion, however, he had made arrangements to change the security of his vault. Now it could only be opened by the goblins, just the same as the Black vault.

Once Merky II had opened the vault, he stepped back to wait by the cart, allowing Harry and Draco some privacy. Harry was appreciative and realized Kurglap probably wouldn’t have afforded them the same courtesy. Once more Harry’s admiration for Narcissa Malfoy soared.

Just as in the Black vault, torches flared when they entered the Potter vault allowing the two wizards to easily view the contents. Draco’s squeak and subsequent blush had Harry chuckling. “Not what you expected?” he asked his lover.

Draco managed to compose himself somewhat before replying. “Well, I didn’t have clear expectations. Everyone has heard rumors of your… solvency, but one assumes that rumors are prone to exaggeration.”

Harry felt certain that Draco’s more formal speech pattern was the man’s way of trying to cover his surprise. It was rather cute, really. “It’s okay, Draco. You’re allowed to be astounded.”

Draco’s rigid posture relaxed, and his breath exploded from him. “Holy shit, Potter! I didn’t know being you was such a lucrative business!”

Laughter bubbled out of him, and Harry gave into it with relish. The visit to the Black vault had been necessary, but somewhat intense. Once more Harry felt relief wash over him, and he reveled in being with Draco. And watching the other man try to come to grips with the amount of wealth displayed here. Perhaps he’d wait a while to tell Draco about his accounts in other wizarding banks across Europe. “This really has nothing to do with being me. Well, except that I inherited quite a bit from my parents. Most of this is the result of investments.”

Draco turned to Harry with new appreciation in his eyes. “Well at least I know that you’re not interested in me for my wealth,” he said with a smirk.

“Of course not,” Harry assured him seriously. “That would be superficial. I’m in this for the naked tai chi you promised.” Then he pulled Draco close and kissed him over his laughter. 

Laughter gave way to small smiles, though the kissing continued for several more moments. Harry’s hand cupped Draco’s cheek as he brushed his lips across Draco’s in a sweet, sensual assault. Quiet sighs and murmurs of promises for later passed between them. Once again, thoughts of anything but Draco fell away and Harry became a little lost in his exploration of the velvet softness of Draco’s mouth.

A not very subtle hacking cough from just outside the vault intruded upon their pleasant activity. Merky II didn’t enter the vault, but managed to remind them they had business other than making out to attend to. Draco smiled ruefully at Harry and kissed him one last time before stepping away. “Later,” he whispered, and his grey eyes burned with that promise.

Harry nodded and, still smiling, turned to survey the contents of the vault. Aside from the piles and piles of currency, a number of tables and shelves along the walls held family heirlooms. Most were from the Potter family; some, previously belonging to Sirius, had also been placed there. There were even some extremely old objects that had evidently once belonged to the Peverell family. Holding Draco’s hand, Harry led him to one of the ornate tables, and they stood before a chest bearing the Peverell family crest. Harry’s hand hovered for a moment before he began to trace his fingers over the ancient wood and leather fastenings.

“Do you remember,” he asked Draco very quietly, “when we were discussing the Rotting magic curse with your parents? You asked me if I had ever reached a point when I wanted to destroy Grimmauld Place.”

Draco nodded. “I remember,” he said. “You told me you didn’t think you ever actually got that far.”

“It’s true. I never thought about actually destroying the house. But I felt… other things.” Harry sighed and looked at Draco. “I can understand more about it now. How the curse and the compulsion really got into my head. Made me feel and do things I would never have done before.”

Harry unlocked the fastenings on the chest. Draco looked into it as it opened. It appeared to contain only a shimmering cloth. Harry reached in and lifted the cloth out and set it on the table. It was obvious there was something wrapped within the cloth as well. 

“There were times that I felt… completely hopeless.” Harry’s voice was hushed, and he fingered the cloth distractedly. “The curse, or the compulsion or whatever, made me feel worthless. I often thought how disappointed my parents would be in me. How I’d let down everyone: Sirius, Remus… even Snape.”

“Harry -” Draco tried to interrupt, but Harry held up a hand to stop him.

“It’s okay now, Draco. I know it was the curse. But at the time, I thought I didn’t deserve to be their son. That I didn’t deserve any of this.” Harry’s gesture took in the contents of the vault. “This is what I wanted to destroy. My link to my family. Myself.” Harry’s gaze returned to the cloth he’d laid on the table. “There was a case I was working on – don’t really remember which one. I knew I was going to need my cloak.”

Draco brows drew together in confusion, unsure what the significance of a cloak would be. “Your cloak? Was it winter?”

“No.” Harry gave a small, sheepish smile and lifted the cloth from the table, carefully removing the leather book that had been wrapped within it. “My invisibility cloak.” He swept it onto his shoulders and couldn’t help grinning at the look of disbelief on Draco’s face. “It’s a family heirloom. It was the first thing I ever received that had belonged to my father. I’ve had it since our days at Hogwarts. I still use it for cases sometimes. Usually I keep it in my cabinet at the office.”

Draco reached out to rub the soft, velvety fabric and took advantage of the opportunity to squeeze Harry’s bicep. Eyebrow raised he said, “Well this explains a lot.”

Harry had the good grace to look a bit abashed. “I know. And I’m sure you’ll have questions.” He took another deep breath before he continued. “That morning, the cloak wasn’t at the office. I had it at home. At Grimmauld Place. I went to get it and… something just made me feel so… wrong. I began to want to get rid of it. To give it to someone who deserved it. Then – somehow – that turned into this need to just destroy it.” 

Draco watched as Harry slipped the cloak from his shoulders and then handed it to him. He was appalled at Harry’s words, but tried very hard not to show it. How desperate must Harry have felt to consider destroying something this precious?

“As I said before, I know now it was the curse making me feel that way. Trying to isolate me from my friends and my family – taking away the few things I possessed that meant the most to me.” Harry turned back to the table and picked up the leather-bound book that had been concealed within the cloak. He carefully opened it and Draco saw at once that it was a photo album. “If I had destroyed these things,” Harry paused, brushing a hand lovingly along the photo album, “it would have killed me.” He looked up to meet Draco’s steady gaze. The eyes of both men shone with the threat of tears. “I would have wanted to die, then. The curse would have beaten me.”

Draco put his hand over Harry’s on the album. James and Lily Potter smiled up at them and Draco knew that, despite what other wealth this vault might contain, this book of photos was the most precious thing Harry Potter possessed. “But it didn’t,” Draco whispered. “You saved the album – and your father’s cloak.” 

Harry took one of his deep, fortifying breaths and gave Draco a small smile. “Yeah, I did. Of all things, Ron came by to pick me up. We were going to meet early, grab some breakfast, and talk about the case. We were hoping to get the final approval to move in on some suspects and had a meeting with Robards later that morning.” Harry allowed himself a small laugh. “Ron noticed I had the cloak out and said something like ‘Brilliant! You’re going to use your cloak?’ He always loved the cloak. So I handed it to him and asked him if he’d take it in for me. Then I gave him the photo album as well. That was a little harder to explain. Told him I’d promised to show it to someone or something. I filled my hands with all the case files I could find lying around my house so he wouldn’t wonder why I wasn’t carrying the cloak or the album. I was… afraid to touch them.” 

Harry closed the album and hugged it to his chest. Draco hugged Harry, the album between them. “How did they get here, into your vault?”

“As soon as I got to work, I owled Gringotts. As I’m sure you know, being a major account holder has its advantages. I requested that a secure goblin come to the Ministry and pick up a package to be taken to my vault. Later, I came to check that it had been done, procedure – you know.” Harry chuckled. “Kurglap was with me to verify the items had been received just as I’d sent them and were in the vault. He stood by as I moved them to the chest there… and I haven’t touched them since. I haven’t even visited my vault since then.”

They stood, embracing: the cloak over Draco’s arm, the album between them, their foreheads pressed together. Once more Harry felt an unstoppable smile spread across his face. Draco noticed and, smiling as well, said, “And now you can finally take them home.”

Harry’s smile was now blinding and he placed a wet, enthusiastic kiss on Draco’s lips. He started to move away and then, remembering something, stopped and said, “But what about shopping? You don’t mind if we go back to the loft do you?”

Draco linked his arm with Harry’s and walked toward the door of the vault. “Of course not. We’ve had a very big morning. I think a break at home would be nice. We can have some lunch, you can show me your album, and we can… relax for a bit.”

Harry knew the grin on his face was quite ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. He had Draco. He had a home. He had everything that was most important to him. Harry sighed happily. “I guess we can always go back out this afternoon to look for clothes.” 

“Definitely on the agenda for later, kitten,” Draco assured him as they walked to the waiting cart. 

As they sped along the tracks back toward the main level of the bank, Harry – still smiling hugely and hugging the photo album to him – leaned over and whispered, “I just love it when you call me kitten.”

Draco turned and kissed Harry’s cheek before whispering “I know. Kitten.”

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

**_Seven months later..._ **

Sleep fell away gently as he stretched luxuriously across the cool sheets of their comfortable bed in the loft. Glorious morning aromas of coffee and pastries wafted into the sleeping area and blended with the scent of the summer roses they’d gathered the previous weekend from the Manor’s gardens. His eyes, now opened, fell upon the crystal vase on the bedside table. Light filtered in from the living area and was caught in the facets of the vase, enhancing the beauty of the roses. His mother had cast a charm on them, so the delicate pink petals still looked fresh and lush. 

Hushed voices and giggles were discernible coming from the living area, and Draco realized this might have been what had awakened him. The panels of stained glass that separated the sleeping area from the rest of the loft served only as a visual barrier. Sound carried quite easily. To their credit, the loft’s other occupants were obviously trying to be very quiet: a difficult feat for the just-turned-six-year-old twins and their Uncle Harry. 

“Uncle Harry? Can I have some more cereal?” 

“Sshh, Richie! We’re doing tie shee.” Sophie’s voice hissed at her brother.

“Tie CHEE, dumbhead!” Richard forgot to whisper.

“Hey! We do not call people ‘dumbheads’ in this house!” Harry was quiet but stern.

Giggles. “Uncle Draco calls you ‘kitten!’” 

“When can we go to the park?” This was Richie’s voice again, and Draco heard the clink of cereal falling into a bowl. How that child could eat Muggle cereal when Harry’d made some of his delicious pastries was one of those mysterious ‘child things’ Draco could not understand.

“Uncle Harry, we aren’t finished with tie chee yet!” Sophie was a little Hermione, determined to learn about everything and a stickler for rules and order.

“Sophie, we’ve done quite a bit this morning,” Harry said quietly. “Since you’re doing so well, maybe Uncle Draco and I will teach you some more tai chi at the picnic?”

“Promise, Uncle Harry?” Draco could perfectly picture the pout, evident in her voice, on the pretty little redhead’s face. 

“Well…” Harry pretended to consider. “We’ll have to see what Uncle Draco says. Sophie! No!”

Draco had only a moment to brace himself before the little girl came barreling into the bedroom and threw herself onto the bed, right on top of him. “Umph!” Fortunately she only managed to knock a bit of his breath out. Just in time he’d drawn his legs up enough to avoid any possibly damaging impact. “Morning, Sophie,” he had just enough breath to say.

Completely oblivious to Draco’s struggle to regain proper breathing function, Sophie launched into her petition. “Uncle Draco? Uncle Harry says after the picnic we can do more tie shee - um, CHEE - if you say it’s okay. But he kind of already promised that you would. Only he said we have to see what you say, but I think he just wants both of you to teach me because you and Uncle Harry do everything together. Mummy thinks it’s _sooo_ sweet, and Daddy says you and Uncle Harry are joined at the hip – but that’s not true! How would you walk? So -mmphh -”

Sophie’s voice was cut off by Harry’s hand across her mouth as he pulled her into a hug from behind. His green eyes sparkled with laughter, and he smiled ruefully at Draco as he mouthed, “Sorry.”

Draco smiled wryly and just shook his head. Then his eyes widened as he prepared himself for a second impact when Richard bounded onto the bed. Draco was relieved that the little boy seemed satisfied with bouncing up and down on the mattress. “When are we going to the park? Aren’t you ever gonna to get up, Uncle Draco? Can we watch telly since we don’t have be quiet anymore?”

“You may,” Draco said and immediately the two children were off the bed and rushing toward the telly. “But breakfast must be eaten at the table – not on the couch!” Draco shouted after them.

Harry sank onto the bed and snuggled into Draco’s body, nuzzling his neck. “Morning, lovenip,” Harry said with a contented sigh.

Draco rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. Harry had tried out a few nicknames for Draco early on in their relationship – the most outrageous being ‘catnip.’ Draco had adamantly refused to allow that one. Harry often simply called him ‘love’ which occasionally mutated into ‘lovenip.’ Initially, Draco had been less than pleased with that as well, but Harry had continued to sneak it in. Now, though he often continued to pretend exasperation, Draco couldn’t help the way that ridiculous name warmed his heart.

“Good morning, kitten.” Draco brushed a kiss across Harry’s forehead, then wrapped him in his arms for a good snuggle. “How long have you been up and about?”

Harry gave a small shrug within Draco’s embrace. “Hour and a half, maybe.”

“Merlin! How was I able to sleep that much longer? And why did you let me?”

Another shrug and Harry settled a bit more into the cuddle. “I know it’s been really busy for you at work lately. Then, after a long day, helping me entertain the twins for the evening – that’s taxing.” Harry paused to inhale against Draco’s throat before placing a kiss there. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to contain the twins for very long this morning, but I tried to give you what time I could.”

Draco was awake enough, now, to have noted that Harry’s voice held no bitterness at the mention of work. Draco was as busy as ever with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Harry had resumed his work as an Auror as well. His boss, however, was still reluctant to allow Harry to return in his previous capacity – despite his growing control over the kitten magic. Harry had been relegated to the desk. Realizing he could not make the decisions for his squad without being in the field with them, Harry had turned leadership of the group over to Ron. The entire squad had been relieved that Robards hadn’t tried to bring in someone from outside the team. The upshot was that Harry and Ron were more co-leaders; Ron was fully in charge in the field, Harry still coordinated the investigations. It had actually worked out fairly well, though Draco was aware Harry was feeling dissatisfied enough to consider pursuing another career. 

That was not a morning conversation, however, and Draco knew Harry had not intended to initiate a discussion about his work situation. So, Draco simply said, “Extra sleep is always good. Thanks for taking on the morning twin duty, kitten.” He managed to stretch a bit while still holding Harry against him. “They’re actually very good children, aren’t they? Have to credit their parents.”

Harry nodded his agreement against Draco’s neck. “I hope Ron and Hermione had a ‘fruitful’ evening to themselves.”

Draco gave Harry a gentle shake. “Please! Fond as I am of them, I do not need that image in my head. Particularly before coffee.”

Chuckling, Harry pulled out of Draco’s embrace enough to prop his head on his hand and look down at the man he loved. “Sorry. I just think it would be nice for them. They really want more children.”

“Merlin preserve us! More Weasleys!” Draco rolled his eyes, but a small smile played about his lips. In truth, both he and Harry were looking forward to having a new little Weasley to spoil. Since Harry had moved in with Draco, Ron and Hermione’s twins stayed over at the loft about once a month. Both men enjoyed having the children visit, and the twins didn’t seem to mind having to sleep on the Transfigured couch. 

That situation, though, had led to discussions about the possibility of buying another unit to expand the loft or perhaps even purchasing a house. Though Harry and Draco often talked about their future – rather a necessity when planning a wedding – any conversations they’d had about expanding their own family were focused on a time farther down the road. Draco had actually already identified his younger cousin Etienne as his heir, and Harry had met the energetic sixteen-year-old when he and his family had come to the Manor for Christmas. That process was still being finalized, but the young man would probably begin to spend more time in England during his breaks from school. With more visits from tiny Weasleys and a teenager who would need his space looming, the housing decision was one that would need to be made soon.

Harry’s other hand poked Draco in the chest, then slid along the silk pajama shirt he wore. “Yeah, keep up the grumpy talk. You might actually convince someone.”

Draco gave a dramatic sigh. “So this is what comes of embracing respectability, rescuing a kitten, and taking up with a hero; my reputation as a wicked bad guy has gone all to hell.”

Letting his hand slip up the silk-covered chest, Harry pressed himself closer to Draco. Brushing his lips against his lover’s he whispered, “I still think you’re wicked.” Harry nipped at Draco’s bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue. 

Draco slipped his hand into the soft, dark locks and pressed his mouth to Harry’s. He shivered at the way Harry’s body slid sensuously against him. A questing tongue slipped into his mouth and -

“Uncle Draco! Richie’s eating cereal on the couch!” 

“Am not!” Richard’s voice rang out over the sound of his feet running across the floor – probably back over to the table.

They sighed in unison but, realizing the interruption was for the best, the two men pulled apart. Harry rose from the bed but Draco sat for a moment, shaking his head, continually amazed at how easily they became lost in each other.

“To the kitty slippers, wicked bad guy,” Harry said as he turned from the bed. “I may need your help defeating the twins of terror.”

“Yes, I’m so terribly intimidating in my kitty slippers,” Draco said wryly, even as he slid his feet into the same. They had been a Christmas present from Harry that Draco might have considered purposely misplacing – if Harry hadn’t been so obviously pleased with the gift. 

As it turned out, Harry’d also gifted Draco’s father with a pair. In deference to Lucius’ allergy to cats, though, Harry had given him bunny slippers. In an unprecedented, too-much-information moment, Narcissa had confessed she found Lucius utterly irresistible in them. This guaranteed that, not only would Lucius be sporting bunny slippers, but Draco would wear his kitten slippers as well. He suspected they affected Harry similarly to the way they did Narcissa. Not that he needed help making himself irresistible to Harry, of course, but he knew it made Harry happy. And he’d already purchased a matching pair of kitty slippers to give Harry on his birthday next month in July.

“You’ll do,” Harry laughed as he grabbed Draco’s hand, pulling him along. “Come on, lovenip.”

***=^;^=***

The Muggle park was, surprisingly, not overcrowded for such a beautiful midsummer day. The twins ran towards their parents, who had already arrived and were setting out a blanket and other picnicking paraphernalia. Draco followed more slowly with Pof cuddled in his arms. The kitten had refused to ride in the covered basket Draco’d brought along for later. They had planned that, once the kitten had spent some time playing with the twins, he would enter the basket and Draco would take him to a secluded area of the park. Once he had changed back to his wizard form, Harry would rejoin the others to enjoy some grownup time.

“Hello, Draco.” Hermione called her greeting to him around the twins who were both hugging her at once. Richard broke away quickly and ran to help his father, but Sophie stayed to get an extra hug or two. “And hello to you, too, Pof.”

Draco surreptitiously cast the spell allowing the others to understand Pof’s meows, and the kitten greeted his friends. Almost immediately, he was off after the twins. “Don’t go too far,” Draco warned as he watched them take off.

“Don’t worry, Draco. The twins know what the limits are,” Hermione reassured him. “Ron, let’s move the blanket a little farther away from that tree. I’d rather be in the sunshine than the shade.” Ron pointedly ignored Draco’s smirk as he wordlessly moved the blanket until it was situated to Hermione’s satisfaction.

***=^;^=***

“Serves the arrogant little miscreant right, in my opinon.” The Malfoy sneer didn’t get a lot of use these days, but Draco proved he could still wield it masterfully.

“Oh, there’s no denying he was asking for trouble,” Ron said. “What’s really amazing is that no one did anything before now.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably on the picnic blanket. “Speaking as one of the recipients of that troll’s-”

“Goblin,” Ron interjected as he stretched comfortably on the blanket, resting his head in Hermione’s lap.

“You’re right. Calling him a troll is an insult to trolls.” Draco shuddered with disgust. “I, for one, hoped that if I ignored him, he’d cease his… flirtations. And I didn’t want to cause a scene. Eventually, I just avoided going to Gringotts if I could manage it.”

“Well, evidently you weren’t the only one who felt that way. Ron said that since the incident with Blaise, complaints have been pouring in about Kurglap,” Hermione said as she absently ran her fingers through her husband’s hair. 

“Merlin, how many were there?” Draco asked.

Ron smirked. “Disappointed you weren’t the goblin’s only object of desire?”

“Ugh!!” Draco shuddered again. “Don’t even say that.”

“I agree, Ron. You’re making light of an issue that, essentially, comes down to sexual harassment.” Hermione dislodged him somewhat as she warmed up to the topic. “I’ve heard that Mrs. Zabini – oh, what’s his mother’s name now?”

“Verkovsky,” Draco provided.

“Yes, Verkovsky,” Hermione agreed. “I’ve heard she’s pursuing legal action against Gringotts.”

“Well now that Blaise has been cleared of charges – I mean, the attack was obviously provoked by that disgusting creature – that should add weight to her suit, shouldn’t it?” Draco asked.

Ron pushed up to rest back on his elbows. “Yeah, but I think the thing that’s really going to bury the goblin is that Gringotts is hanging him out to dry.”

Draco smirked. “I imagine the bank is eager to distance itself from the scandal.”

“Well, yeah, there’s that,” Ron agreed. “But I think, more than anything, the other goblins are disgusted that Kurglap was making sexual advances towards witches and wizards.”

“So if he’d been harassing other goblins they’d have overlooked his behavior?” Hermione was obviously appalled.

“Who knows how goblins think?” Ron sat up and squinted up at the bright sky. “When are we going to eat, Mione?”

A delighted squeal drew the attention of all the adults. Hermione smiled as she watched her children chasing the kitten around the large tree – or perhaps it was the other way around. “Now. Call the children, dear.”

***=^;^=***

Heeding their father’s call, the children ended their game of kitten and mice and ran toward the picnic blanket. Richard, eager for the goodies he was sure his mother had packed, raced ahead.

“Come on, Pof!” Sophie skipped for a moment beside small black cat, then charged off after her brother, trusting the kitten to follow.

Pof scampered after the twins, hopping over dandelions on the way. Then a butterfly flitted across his path and the kitten stopped, distracted by the pretty colors and erratic movements. Pof liked butterflies. Butterflies were almost as good as bubbles, but more like a Snitch since there was usually only one at a time. They were harder to catch too, since they could – and usually did – fly out of the kitten’s range.

This butterfly, sparkling and bright, turned back toward the kitten – as if teasing him to follow. Who was he to resist? Pof hopped back towards the tree, trying to catch the delicate creature fluttering back that way. As the butterfly disappeared around the trunk of the large, old tree, Pof thought he heard Draco calling him. He knew he should go back, but he’d never been able to catch a butterfly before. Maybe this time... 

When he rounded the tree, the butterfly was there, lit upon the hand of an old woman. She sat upon the ground, but seemed quite comfortable there. She smiled at the butterfly and lifted her hand toward her face. As Pof watched curiously, she brought the butterfly up to her faded blue eyes. The creature fluttered its delicate wings and then disappeared in a tiny burst of sparkles.

The kitten blinked his big, green eyes in wonder. _“Where did it go?”_ he asked. He hadn’t expected an answer.

“It had somewhere else to be,” said the old woman. “I just borrowed it for a moment.” She turned a smiling gaze upon the kitten.

 _“You can understand me!”_ the kitten exclaimed. _“Did Draco cast the spell on you?”_

“I need no spell for that, little one.” The old woman held out her hand to him, and Pof approached her. As he drew nearer, he felt waves of peacefulness flow out from her and was engulfed by the sensation. Without another thought, he settled himself in her lap and gazed up into her light blue eyes. “You seem happy as a kitten, Harry Potter.”

 _“I am,”_ he told her, without hesitation. His wizard’s memory provided the kitten with a sudden, vivid picture of this woman. She was clutching his arm as he stood in the middle of the chaotic scene in the aftermath of a magical explosion on a rainy day last autumn. The kitten purred his recognition. _“You made me a kitten!”_

Her smile broadened. “You remember old Asha, then?”

 _“Yes!”_ Pof said excitedly. _“You told me not to be afraid and that Draco would save me! And he did!”_

“Draco?” the old woman queried. “Is he the one meant to love you, then?”

The kitten cocked his head and blinked at her. _“Yes. He loves me when I’m a kitten and when I’m a wizard, too. Didn’t you know that?”_

“I could see you would be loved and that love would save you. I didn’t know who would end the Rotting curse,” she explained.

 _“Draco did! Well, he helped. Lots of people helped.”_ Pof stretched as the old woman stroked a wrinkled hand through his soft fur. _“But… if you hadn’t made me a kitten, I wouldn’t have found my way to him. I was… afraid.”_

“I know, little one. The curse was heavy upon you.” She still smiled, but her faded eyes held a hint of sadness.

 _“Is that why you made me a kitten? So I could find him?”_ Green eyes blinked in curiosity.

“You chose the form, Harry Potter. The heart of Gryffindor’s great cat beats within you.”

Pof preened for a moment before looking at her in confusion. _“But I’m a kitten, not a lion.”_

The old woman gave a small shrug. “Kittens are easier to cuddle,” she said. “You needed to be cuddled.”

Pof flopped joyously from one side to the other, purring loudly. _“Draco cuddles me! He’s really good at it.”_

Asha chuckled and rubbed the kitten’s belly. “I can see that you are happy, little one. But I wonder – if you have found your happiness and been freed from the Rotting curse, why are you still a kitten?”

The kitten seemed to pause. Rolling onto his feet he sat in her lap, cocking his head to the side as he looked up at her. _“Sometimes I just like to be Pof instead of Harry. Is that okay?”_

The old woman shrugged again. “You may be what you like. You choose your form, kitten or wizard.” She lifted a hand to, once again, stroke through his fur, her gaze, thoughtful. “I see,” she said, and Pof seemed to sense a special emphasis on the way she said those words. “You had needs beyond the Rotting curse. You needed to see through a child’s eyes.”

Pof returned her gaze with an equal intensity. He knew there were questions he needed to have answered, but he didn’t quite know how to ask. He hopped from her lap and sat just in front of her on the grass. Then, with a fluid movement born of months of practice, the black kitten transformed. Harry Potter, wizard, Auror, now sat on the grass where the kitten had been just seconds before.

Faded blue eyes widened, then sparkled with pleasure. “Your contentment is even more apparent in this form, young one.”

Harry smiled. Hesitating only a moment, he took the old woman’s hand in his. Her skin was soft, but worn so very thin with age. Her plain robes were nondescript, and her white hair was brushed back into a simple braid knotted into a bun at her nape. The blue eyes must have been a striking feature at one time, but now the color only hinted at former glory. Still, the twinkle emanating from those eyes prickled at Harry with untold wisdom – and laughter. She sat quietly, smiling gently at him as he studied her. A detail the kitten had overlooked caught at his memory and he cocked his head as he tried to recall its significance. “Asha…”

***=^;^=***

The twins arrived in a flurry of excitement, ready for the eating phase of the picnic. Ron and Richard impatiently began to rummage the food containers that had not yet been opened. Hermione received a flower from Sophie, bestowing kisses in response, and took a moment to discuss the shapes of the clouds.

Draco, after greeting the children, immediately noticed his kitten was not with them. He took a moment to look around all the legs that now crowded the blanket, thinking he might have overlooked Pof in all the activity. Panic spiked when it became clear the kitten was not there. Draco looked back along the path the children had taken and, with a twinge of relief, spotted the small furry body. Except – the kitten was heading away from them, back toward the large tree at the edge of a more densely wooded area of the park. Perhaps Pof had decided to Transform in the woods. Grimacing, Draco started toward the kitten. Even though this was a Muggle park, there were dangers here for a small animal. In exasperation, Draco, now starting after the kitten, called out. Pof, however, ignored him and disappeared behind the tree. Panic once more surging, Draco ran after the kitten. Rounding the tree, however, he discovered that the kitten was nowhere in sight.

***=^;^=***

The old woman brightened as he spoke her name, and Harry was suddenly aware of the magnitude of her magic. He looked upon her in wonder. “Who are you?” he asked

She shrugged lightly, but the twinkling in her eyes intensified. “I’m just a very old witch, Harry Potter. Don’t you have other questions to ask?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked at the ground. With his free hand, he rubbed at the back of his neck. Meeting her gaze once more, he hesitantly said, “I… don’t even know where to begin.” He sighed, shaking his head a bit. “You said I could choose my form. But, I can’t always. Sometimes, I just become the kitten – or I did. Though really, that hardly ever just happens anymore.”

The old woman gazed fondly at him. “I remember that day in Diagon Alley. You were so full of anger and… ugly emotions. Crying out in pain, you were. Broke my heart, young one.” Asha scrutinized him, now. “But I see none of that anger in you now.”

Harry smiled broadly. “The curse – the Rotting magic – it’s almost gone, I think. Draco’s mum said the poison of it would slowly leave me, and I really think it has. I don’t get angry. Well, not like that anyway.” His smile faltered a bit and the old woman noticed it at once.

“That should make you happy, shouldn’t it?” she asked.

“It does,” he said quickly. “I just… not everyone is convinced. Like my boss. I’m only allowed back at work in a limited capacity. He’s worried I’ll get angry in the middle of a case and turn furry.” Harry furrowed his brow and looked very directly at Asha. “But you said I could choose my form. Do you mean that I shouldn’t just… change without meaning to?”

She looked down at their joined hands for a moment before looking up to ask, “You no longer change when angry?” When he confirmed this with a shake of his head, she asked, “But you still change… unexpectedly?”

He looked a bit sheepish. “Sometimes. It’s when I feel sad or… worried.”

She smiled knowingly. “When you need comfort.”

“Yes!” Harry smiled in relief that she understood. The smile slipped a bit then, and his brow furrowed. “But that’s personal. It’s… it has nothing to do with work. It never happens there. And, when I do change, I can always change back.” He shrugged one shoulder and added, “If I want to.”

The old woman cocked her head in confusion. “If you can change back – when you want to – why is there a problem?”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “I think it’s the fact that I still transform at all. Robards – that’s my boss – still sees it as uncontrolled magic”

Asha simply looked at him for a moment before a small smile appeared on her lips. “So… control it, young one.”

Harry drew back from her and let out a frustrated snort. “That’s the whole point, Asha. I can’t control the kitten magic. I still transform unexpectedly at times.”

She dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “You can control it if you wish. You’ve always had it in you to do so.” Seeing his look of disbelief she said, “You just have to learn how to handle it. And it sounds as if you have.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

She put her other hand over their joined ones and scooted a bit closer to him. “Did you always know how to perform magic? Are you the same now, magically, as you were at age eleven?”

“No,” Harry said. “Of course not.”

“Is your control over this,” she smiled as she repeated his words, “this ‘kitten magic’ the same now as it was at the beginning? No! You’ve learned. You’ve defeated the curse that caused your pain, and you’ve learned how to become the kitten, and change back, at will.”

Harry was silent for a few moments. “So you’re saying… that I don’t actually change… without wanting to? That I do choose to change?”

“Maybe not consciously.” She looked at him slyly and added, “Though I believe, if you are completely honest about it, you will admit there is a choice involved when you change. It happens when you know you need comfort, so you seek it out.”

Harry looked a bit alarmed. “Are you saying I’m… addicted to it?”

Asha chuckled lightly. “I’m saying that, like everyone else, you’ve found a way to cope. We all do things to make ourselves feel better when we need to do so. We listen to the birds singing, take walks in fresh air, seek out our loved ones.” She cocked her head just slightly. “Are those addictions?”

Harry considered her words, then shook his head. “No, they’re not.”

She nodded and grasped his hands more firmly in hers. “Help me up, then.”

Harry scrambled up and helped her to stand, noting the small stretch she gave once she was on her feet. He realized that was the only sign he’d seen her give of her age.

Asha reached up one hand to cup Harry’s cheek and looked very directly into his eyes. “You are the kitten, young one. As much as you are the wizard.” She smiled a bit then. “There is no harm in being both.” He answered her with a blinding smile. “Now,” she said, “we must meet your young man. He’s a bit concerned.”

***=^;^=***

Draco was frantic. And pissed off. And scared shitless. He’d searched the wooded area that lay near the large tree. He hadn’t been too far behind Pof, and his long stride covered distance more quickly than the kitten’s tiny legs. Pof was so small, though, that he could easily be lost in the thick-growing foliage.

“Pof!” Draco called out. “Pof, come here!” Draco turned and bent and got down on his knees to look for the kitten. Frustrated, he sat back on his haunches and, after a moment, cried out, “Harry!”

Determined to call for Ron so they could continue the search for the kitten together, Draco pushed himself to his feet and hurried back toward the picnic area. Even before he broke from the woods, he saw Harry. He was standing by the large tree with… it was the old woman from the Pensieve memory! The one who had changed Harry into a kitten. Drawing his wand, Draco ran toward them.

Harry heard Draco’s approach before he saw him. He’d only just turned toward the sound when Draco burst from the surrounding woods and rushed to his side. He pulled Harry away from Asha. Before Harry could say anything, Draco was shielding him, standing between him and Asha with his wand pointed directly at her.

“Draco, stop!” Harry cried out. He put his hand on Draco’s arm trying to pull the wand down. Stepping to Draco’s side he said, “It’s okay, Draco. She didn’t hurt me.”

Draco’s stance faltered, and he glanced quickly at Harry before returning his gaze to glare at the old woman – and found her smiling at him. He strengthened his glare in response. And she chuckled.

“So fierce, this one,” she said. “You are well matched.” She looked over at Harry, giving him a soft smile and a nod. Then she turned back to Draco, winked at him, and, with an almost indistinct movement to indicate Apparition, was gone.

***=^;^=***

Ron strode toward the large tree, a half-eaten sandwich in hand. Hermione had insisted he find out what was keeping Harry and Draco. Ron snorted in irritation, but continued on his way. He reckoned he could guess what was keeping Harry and Draco. Even though the relationship was no longer brand new, the two men were extremely affectionate and frequently got so caught up in each other they tended to forget anyone else was around. Stuffing another bite of the sandwich into his mouth, Ron rolled his eyes at the looming moment of awkwardness that was bound to occur when he rounded that tree. Well, if they were snogging behind the tree – fine. But he wasn’t going into the wooded area after them.

Even as he thought that, however, Hermione’s concerned voice sounded in his mind. She had worried when Pof hadn’t returned with the twins. Draco had immediately taken off after the kitten, though, so Ron didn’t think there’d be too much to worry about. Pof was easily distracted, true. But he wouldn’t purposely run away from Draco. Ron was certain they were simply implementing their plan to find a secluded spot for Harry to change from his furry alter ego back to his wizard form. At least that’s what he hoped they were doing in that secluded spot.

Rounding the tree, Ron was brought up short. Harry and Draco were there, but they weren’t alone. The old woman – the one who had worked the mysterious magic that turned Harry into a kitten – was with them. Before Ron could move to take out his wand, the old woman had winked at Draco and Apparated away.

***=^;^=***

Hermione watched as, finally, the three men approached. Ron had left only minutes before, but Harry and Draco had been gone for much longer. She’d known there was a risk in sending her husband after the couple. It was possible that Ron might have found them engaged in an activity that would prove embarrassing – for him, at least. Any shyness Harry and Draco might have felt about showing affection in front of others had lasted for, maybe, the first few weeks of their relationship. She had been relatively sure, though, they would practice _some_ discretion in a public park. And she just hadn’t been able to ignore that little niggling feeling that something was amiss.

Looking at her husband, Hermione was now certain something had indeed occurred. He had his Auror face on. Draco strode next to Ron, and the pinched, tight-lipped expression he wore told Hermione he was not pleased. She stood, leaving the twins to their lunch, and started toward the men, shifting her gaze to see what Harry’s face would tell her. She almost faltered in her step. Totally incongruous with the countenances of his companions, Harry wore a sheepish grin – and the spring in his step made him appear to be practically skipping along beside them. 

“What happened?” Hermione asked as she reached them. She glanced over her shoulder at the twins, making certain they were still on the picnic blanket a small distance away, chattering as they ate their lunch. 

“Harry had a visitor,” Draco said sharply, turning a stern gaze upon his boyfriend – who merely rolled his eyes and continued to smile in response. Draco let out an exasperated breath and turned away. 

“Come on, Draco!” Harry entreated as he moved closer to the other man. Draco’s arms were folded across his chest and Harry tugged at his sleeve. “I’m fine. We just talked.”

“He’s worried about you, mate.” Ron’s tone indicated Harry must be daft not to understand that. “Last time you ‘just talked’ to her, you ended up furry.”

Hermione’s eyes flew wide. “The old woman?? She was here?”

“Yes,” Draco said, irritation still coloring his tone and his arms still tucked tightly across his chest – though his fingers did slip out to capture and entwine with Harry’s, trapping them against his sleeve. “She just stopped by for a chat with Harry, evidently.” 

His friends turned expectant gazes upon him, and Harry gave a small sigh. They all looked so concerned. “Listen, this is good news. I’m really okay. I promise. In fact, I’m brilliant! Asha made me realize that I – what?” Draco’s hand now gripped Harry’s and pulled it against his chest. “Draco?”

Draco was staring at him, brows drawn together. It was a little worrying, so Harry turned to his oldest friends for reassurance – and found none. Ron looked confused and shook his head as if clearing it. Hermione was wearing what Harry secretly called her data face – the one where he imagined she was actually some kind of super computer in a human body. Clearly, something he said had flipped her search mode into high gear. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked them collectively. “I finally have some answers about the whole kitten thing. Don’t you want to hear?”

Only Hermione seemed willing to try to do something other than stare at him as if he had just told them he’d been kissing nargles. “Of course we want to hear, Harry. But – what did you call her?”

A little disconcerted by how intently they continued to watch him, Harry answered, “Asha? That’s what she said her name was. It sounded kind of familiar but-”

They all seemed to recover at once and were now quite animated in their reactions. Ron’s slapped his own forehead and was muttering Harry’s name over and over. Draco rolled his eyes – in an overly dramatic manner, in Harry’s opinion – and was saying something like “fucking unbelievable, Potter.” Hermione just stood, hands on hips, disapproval pouring off of her.

“What??” Harry asked again, exasperation clear. Obviously they all knew something he didn’t, but no one seemed in any hurry to enlighten him. Which – if he’d thought about it – might have been a very clear indication of just how much he’d managed to disappoint Hermione. What he was thinking about instead was that his friends were being completely unsupportive. It was unfair, really. Pulling his hand from Draco’s, he backed a couple of steps away from the group and gave them his best scowl.

“Oh, alright. I get it. Harry doesn’t know something again.” He turned to Hermione. “I know what you’re going to say. ‘Oh Harry! You never paid attention at school. You never studied. _Hogwarts: A History_ isn’t just a doorstop you know.’ And you,” Harry pointed at Ron. “You’ve got that ‘Ah, mate. Even _I_ know this one!’ look and you’ll say it because – even though you don’t really want to put me on the spot – it always gets you extra points with Hermione when you know something.” Harry turned to Draco then and, totally ignoring the raised blond brow, plunged ahead. “And you! You... you won’t say anything because you love me!”

Draco had plenty to say, but managed to refrain from doing so. Instead, he closed the distance between them and pulled Harry into a hug. Despite the fact the man now stood safe beside him, Draco’s heart still raced from the worry he had suffered when the kitten had gone missing. When Harry began to nuzzle his throat, Draco allowed himself to be comforted by the tickling sensation and pressed a kiss against Harry’s soft dark hair.

“So,” Harry said, somewhat languidly now as Draco’s delicious scent rolled over him, “is someone going to tell me who Asha is?”

“Asha was the witch who was looking for the Fountain of Fair Fortune because she needed it to make her well again.” Sophie smiled proudly as they all turned toward her. The adults hadn’t noticed when the twins joined them, but the children had obviously heard mention of the old woman’s name.

Harry cocked his head a bit to the side. “The Fountain of Fair Fortune…” he mused, no real recognition evident in the blank expression he wore.

“Harry James Potter!” Every member of the assembled group flinched at Hermione’s shrill tone. “You must know this story. It’s from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_.”

Beedle the Bard – this was indeed something Harry had heard of. “Oh,” was his quiet response. “Well, I know the one tale. About the… three brothers.”

“Well I should hope so,” Hermione huffed. It was evident she was trying to rein in the scold she had been bursting to deliver. They didn’t often talk about the war, and she’d never heard Harry mention the Deathly Hallows since then. There was a heavy silence for several moments and, looking at Ron and Harry, she was certain they were sharing her memory of Xenophilius Lovegood telling them the story of the three brothers who tried to outwit Death. Of course Harry would remember this tale of the creation of the Elder wand, the Cloak of Invisibility, and the Resurrection Stone.

“I don’t like that one,” Sophie said with six-year-old innocence, breaking the melancholy spell that was threatening to settle upon the group. “I like the one you were talking about before – the one with the fountain. It has the beautiful witch Amata who falls in love with Sir Luckless.” 

“Hey! I do know that one!” Harry’s face beamed brightly as he turned to Draco. “Isn’t that the one your father tried to have banned because of the love story between a witch and a Muggle?”

Sophie turned her big blue eyes to Draco. “What does ‘banned’ mean?” she asked, seeming to sense it wasn’t good.

Flashing Harry an unmistakably frosty look, Draco knelt beside the little girl. Tucking a stray red curl behind her ear, he told her, “It means my father used to have terrible taste in stories and didn’t know a good one when he heard it.”

Sophie’s shy smile was interrupted by Richard’s loud comment. “Maybe he just doesn’t like stories with love.” He stretched out the last word with a derisive tone that deteriorated into mock-gagging noises. Sophie’s arm flashed out at him. Richie managed to duck her blow and ran away, Sophie charging after him.

Draco stood, brushing grass from the knees of his Muggle jeans, and turned once more to Harry. “So you finally remember the story of the Fountain, do you?”

“Well, just the one part – about the beautiful witch and the Muggle knight,” Harry admitted. “And I remember that there were two other witches.”

“Altheda and Asha,” Ron added helpfully, glancing at Hermione – no doubt to see if points would, in fact, be awarded. “Asha was deathly ill, and the fountain was her last hope for healing.”

“And Altheda had been robbed of everything by an evil sorcerer,” Hermione said. “She hoped the fountain would bring relief from her poverty and hopelessness. When she brewed a potion that saved Asha’s life, she discovered she could earn a living as a Healer – so she no longer needed the Fountain of Fair Fortune.”

“In the end, since Asha had been healed of the disease that was killing her, neither of them needed the fountain,” Draco completed the explanation.

“Oh,” was Harry’s response once more. He thought about it moment, then said, “But what does that have to do with this situation? Aside from the fact that Asha – my kitten-lady Asha – has the same name as a character in a story?”

Hermione didn’t answer Harry directly. Turning to Draco, she asked, “Have you ever heard of anyone – besides the character in the story - named Asha?”

“No,” Draco said immediately – and he and Hermione seemed to share one of those speculative looks that always had Ron and Harry looking for an excuse to make their escape.

Since escape from the picnic was unlikely, Harry addressed the issue head-on. “Well, just because her name is Asha doesn’t mean she’s the Asha in the story. That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

Gaining confidence from Harry’s attitude, Ron added, “I have to agree with Harry. Those tales were written hundreds of years ago. That would be impossible, wouldn’t it? For her to be _that_ Asha?”

“Impossible, you say.” Draco answered. “Think for a moment, Ron, who we’re talking about here.” Once more the three turned a collectively speculative gaze upon Harry.

Ron considered it for a few moments, then shrugged. “Yep. You’re right. Can’t really use words like ‘impossible’ when it comes to Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes once more, sighing heavily. “You know, there is really, _really_ no need to make this more complicated than it already is. Just keep thinking about her as ‘the old woman’ if you want. The point is that, once again, she helped me.”

“What did she do this time?” Hermione asked, a note of apprehension in her voice.

Harry smiled gently. “She… just talked to me, really.” Seeing the sharp looks of his friends, he added, “No prophetic pronouncements, this time!”

“That you remember,” Draco muttered – then felt contrite when Harry’s face fell in disappointment. Taking Harry’s hand, he said, “I’m sorry, kitten. You frightened me today. I couldn’t find you. I’d circled that tree at least three times.”

Harry nodded his understanding. “I think she must have disillusioned us somehow. Though – I didn’t see you either. She must have done something about that as well.”

Hermione could contain herself no longer. “How can you just calmly talk about her that way? Don’t you understand the amount of power she must have to be able to do things like that?”

“Yes, Hermione,” Harry said quietly, regarding her soberly. “I do understand a thing or two about magical power.” Whatever she had been about to say next never made it out of her mouth. Hermione just pressed her lips together and gave him a small nod. “You’re right, though,” Harry continued. “She was extremely powerful. I could feel it.” Now the smile returned. “She told me I can control it. I can control everything about the kitten magic. I just have to make up my mind to do it.”

Draco huffed a bit. “That’s not news. I’ve been telling you that for months.”

Harry hugged him close. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for believing in me.” He placed a soft kiss on Draco’s lips, finally drawing a smile from the other man. 

“So, you received your answers,” Hermione said. Clearly trying not to sound as if she was questioning him, she added, “And you’re certain you can trust what she told you…”

Harry smiled broadly once more. “The kitten magic was a gift, Hermione. Asha felt my pain, sensed the curse and did what she could to help me.” Harry, still in Draco’s arms, turned to look into grey eyes that reflected all the love in his own. “Because of Asha, Draco and I finally found our way to each other. Because of her kitten magic, we discovered the curse at Grimmauld Place. She made me a kitten, and it saved my life.” Turning back to Hermione, Harry said, “How can I fail to trust that?”

In answer, Hermione smiled softly and nodded. She startled a bit when Ron took her hand. He grinned at her and pulled her back toward the picnic blanket. Turning to look back at Harry and Draco, she found them gazing at each other in one of those ‘let’s forget about the rest of the world’ moments where they seemed to spend much of their time. She supposed they’d have to wait, now, to hear more of Harry’s encounter with his kitten lady. She smiled more easily now and tucked herself into Ron’s side as they walked away from the now kissing wizards.

***=^;^=***

“Asha,” Draco whispered again – for about the hundredth time, Harry thought.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled back the covers to settle beside Draco in their large comfy bed. Draco lay back, hands stacked behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Harry, propped on an elbow beside him, tapped on Draco’s chin to draw his attention. “It doesn’t mean she was THE Asha, you know.”

Draco shook himself from his musings. “Well, of course not. That would be preposterous. Do you know how old the tales of the Bard are?”

Harry chuckled. “Not off the top of my head, no,” he admitted. “I don’t know why you and Hermione are so worried about it.”

Draco looked at him incredulously. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because this mysterious old woman casts some very mysterious, very powerful magic upon you and just happens to have the same name as one of the characters from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_? Maybe??”

Harry sighed. “It’s a name. Like Harry. Or Draco.” Seeing the blond smirk he added, “Okay, maybe not like Draco. I guess there aren’t too many people with that name.”

“My point exactly!” Draco exclaimed. “How many Ashas have you heard of?”

“But you said it was preposterous. That it couldn’t be her!”

Draco faltered a bit. “Well… that’s my point, too. I guess.”

“And again,” Harry said smugly, “I say forget about it, lovenip.” Cupping Draco’s cheek he said softly, “It’s okay, Draco. Everything’s okay now.” Harry was quiet for a moment as he traced a finger over Draco’s lips. “A part of me was worried, you know, that we’d find a way to reverse the kitten magic,” he said softly. “I’m glad I can still be Pof if I want to.” Harry hesitated for a moment before asking, “Are you okay with it?”

Draco smiled at him and pulled him into an embrace. “Of course, kitten. I’d miss Pof if he just suddenly disappeared forever.” In a conspiratorial whisper he added, “He’s rather fond of me you know. Completely unable to resist my charms.”

“And your scent,” Harry laughed as he nuzzled Draco’s throat. “Mmmm… you are irresistible.”

“And fierce,” Draco said, echoing Asha’s words.

“And wicked,” Harry added with a lascivious smirk.

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. With a groan and just a hint of exasperation he said, “I love you.” 

“Oh, well thanks. I’m overwhelmed by your enthusiasm,” Harry said dryly.

“Oh, I can be very enthusiastic.” Suddenly Harry found himself atop Draco and wrapped in a tight embrace. Then Draco spread his legs so Harry was settled between his thighs. “Shall I show you?”

Grinning, Harry pressed forward to kiss him. His hands slipped up into the soft blond hair as his lips brushed once, twice, before nibbling on Draco’s bottom lip. Since neither man had come to bed wearing clothing, there was nothing to impede the sensation of skin brushing intimately against skin. Draco slid his hands down to cup Harry’s arse, pulling their bodies more firmly against one another. 

A moan escaped Harry. The feel of Draco’s body against his as the kiss heated was an exquisite sensation. Draco’s soft, full lips and persistent tongue set his whole body aflame. His cock filled quickly, and soon one hard-on was rubbing deliciously against the other. Harry rested his weight on one arm. His other hand slid lightly down Draco’s body slowing to caress his throat, trace along his collarbone. Then his fingers brushed a hard pebbled nipple and Draco gasped, breaking the kiss. 

Harry’s hand caressed Draco’s chest, teasing and stroking his sensitive nipples. Feather-light kisses tickled across his cheek and jaw, and then the soft lips brushed his ear. The sound of Harry’s harsh breath as his tongue delicately licked along the contours of his ear made his entire body jolt with arousal. His cock, hard and aching before, now felt painfully full. His body bucked up against Harry’s and his lover moaned again, the sound reverberating in his ear.

Draco was writhing beneath him. Harry nibbled at his soft earlobe and stroked down his taut abdomen. The man was gorgeous, and the thought that Draco, beautiful Draco, was his to touch, to love sent a delicious shiver though him. Draco's body shuddered in response, and Harry felt the grip tighten on his arse before one hand slipped between his cheeks to tease and stimulate his opening.

Harry was frozen against him, lost in the sensation of Draco caressing his rim. Draco's hips rotated reflexively and he moaned at the feel of his cock – so hard – rubbing against Harry’s. He was so sensitive now that it was almost more of an ache than a pleasure. Almost. “Harry,” he murmured helplessly. "Please!" 

Harry collapsed against Draco, his body burning with need. His magic pulsed as he held out his hand, silently Summoning a jar from the bedside table. The lid of the jar removed itself and, somewhere in the recesses of Harry’s lust-addled brain, he thought ‘I love magic’ before dipping his hand into the viscous substance.

The lubricant was cool against his hot prick, and Draco gasped again as Harry spread the substance along their cocks. Harry held them both in one hand, stroking them together as he rubbed the slippery coating over their erections. The feel of their hard pricks together, only their own essence leaked from them to sooth the dry pull, had been fantastic. Now the lubricant heightened the sensation, and Draco bucked furiously into Harry’s hand. Often they coupled this way, bringing each other to completion by stoking, rubbing. Draco brought a hand around to join Harry’s and had planned to stop there. Almost without thought, he grabbed Harry’s hand and, instead of stroking with him, pushed Harry’s hand lower.

Harry was surprised when Draco pulled his hand away from their cocks. They’d been close, and he was sure Draco’s body burned with his for release. Their hands, guided by Draco, came to rest against his opening. As Harry caressed him, Draco pulled his legs up, further exposing himself. Harry shivered and rubbed his fingers more firmly against Draco’s rim. Draco’s cry brought Harry’s gaze up to see his lover, head thrown back against the pillows, chest rising and falling as his breath broke harshly from him.

Fingers, still sticky with lubricant rubbed against him and then pushed into his opening. Draco didn’t intend to push so wantonly against Harry’s fingers, but he didn’t stop himself. The intrusion was welcome. He needed to feel Harry inside him. “Please,” Draco breathed. “Need you.”

Harry was so incredibly hard. Draco’s beauty clenched his heart. He removed his fingers from Draco’s entrance and positioned his cock, pressing just the tip inside. Draco moaned, clutching at Harry’s arms, calling his name. When Harry pushed in, they both cried out. An electric shock pulsed through him, and Harry bit his lip against the sensation. They were both so close already, he knew only a few strokes would bring them. 

“Draco,” Harry rasped and then repeated the name to cut into the other man’s haze of sensation. “Draco!” This time grey eyes blinked open to gaze heatedly up at him. He knew that Draco was listening when he whispered, “I love you.”

The words rocked Draco, and his hips bucked as he cried out. Then Harry was pumping into him, hard and steady, and almost immediately his thick, rigid cock found Draco’s prostate. He may have shrieked his release, he wasn’t sure and didn’t care. His cock was pulsing out hot, sticky come and he felt like it might never cease. And then Harry shouted his name and convulsed violently against Draco as his own orgasm took him. Harry’s hard cock, pulsing liquid into him triggered more shudders and Draco vaguely wondered if they would ever stop.

Harry fell against him, face pressed into Draco’s neck, his breath exploding in harsh exhalations from his body. Finally, his breathing eased and he nuzzled Draco’s throat before placing a soft kiss there. They lay, still joined, as minutes passed, drained of energy but sated and blissful.

Draco stroked Harry’s back and pressed kisses into his soft, dark hair. His mouth curved into a smile as he gloried in the feel of Harry’s weight atop him. His lover’s breathing was now steady, even. Draco thought he might have fallen asleep, but then another soft kiss was pressed against his throat. 

Contentment wrapped around them and Draco, sighing softly, let himself relax into it. This was his life now. He’d teased Harry that morning about what the love of a kitten had done to him, but the truth was that nothing had ever felt more right to him than holding Harry Potter in his arms. The past, with all the darkness and pain that had stained both their lives, was slipping irrevocably away, unlamented. Sweetness filled their days with a promise of more to come. They had each other and Draco knew it was enough to sustain them.

Harry shifted against him, and his soft contented sigh tickled the skin of Draco’s throat. He continued to brush his fingers along Harry’s back, reveling in the feel of the warm body against his. Drifting in his haze of love and warmth, Draco didn’t know exactly when the slight rumbling under his hands – and against his chest – had begun. The sensation slowly became a sound as well, light and barely audible. The lassitude of his sated state began to give way to a tired curiosity. What was that sound and… was it coming from Harry’s body?

“Harry?” He felt Harry grumble softly against him and then snuggle closer. The rumbling resumed immediately and recognition suddenly dawned. Draco started, eyes wide. “Harry?? Harry! Are you… purring??”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written two Paws of Fury companion stories. Both are now posted here at AO3. They can be found at my live journal or my page at The Hex Files. They are:
> 
> "Paws of Fury - Christmas Kitten" It's set between Chapters 21 and 22, but was written to (pretty much) stand alone.
> 
> "That Naked Thing You Do" - think tai chi... Set about three weeks after the end of Chapter 21.


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